


Behind the Lens

by regardinglove



Series: BTL!Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Barista Castiel, Cancer Arc, College AU, Drug Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Leukemia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Abuse, Past Castiel/Bartholomew, Past Castiel/Meg Masters, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Patient Dean, Romance, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 61,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1917339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regardinglove/pseuds/regardinglove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is a pre-law major at Carver University working at a coffee shop to pay the bills. Dean is a leukemia patient who works at the bookstore across the way. When their worlds collide Dean shows Cas how to live life to the fullest, revealing a whole new world that can be found behind a lens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Farther Along

**Author's Note:**

> First off, if you're reading this then you've found my fic! Hi! *waves at you*. Before you begin reading this story though there are a few things you should know. One, this is essentially a fanfiction that deals with many sensitive subjects such as cancer, drug abuse, suicidal thoughts, past abusive relationships, and death. If any of these things trigger you please do not read this. Second, this is a fanfiction dealing with a Dean who has ALL [acute lymphoblastic leukemia]. I've done lots of research on this type of cancer and I'm going to try to keep my story as accurate to my research as possible, however I have never experienced cancer and there are sure to be errors throughout the piece. I know a little bit about cancer since my grandmother had it, but I know that is nowhere near the same thing as having it yourself. Therefore I will try really hard to be accurate, but please know that I am not an expert on this subject. Finally, this is still a work in progress. I do not know when I will have the fic finished because I'm working full time this summer while also taking an online course, so please be patient with the updates! I will try to work as fast as I can, but I also want to put out quality work that I'm proud of instead of just slinging something out for the sake of updating.
> 
> If you know more about this type of cancer or cancer in general and find something inaccurate in my fic, please don't hesitate to send me a message. I will try my best to fix any errors pointed out to be as soon as possible.
> 
> Thanks for giving my fic a chance; I'm still a newbie to the fanfiction world and am still learning, so constructive criticism and general feedback is appreciated.
> 
> Enjoy!

It all started when Castiel was a child, a young boy of eight years who singlehandedly won the school debate competition. He remembers it well; the students hoisted his slim frame up onto their equally thin arms and declared him king of the third grade. His mother hugged him tight and held him close, whispering how proud of him she was in his ear. His best friend, Jessica Moore, said that he was "the coolest guy to ever live." In Castiel's eyes it was only one competition, nothing to get excited over, but his father thought quite differently. After that day he wasn't looking at Castiel Novak, third grade debate champion; he was looking at Castiel Novak, future heir to the family law firm in the making.

That's how he ends up here in this damn coffee shop at unholy hour of seven in the morning, slinging back espresso shots like he's prepping for an all night study session. The small space is already abuzz with student athletes coming back from their six o'clock practices, complaining loudly about the workout their coach put them through that day. Castiel just rolls his eyes as they drone on about mundane things such as how hot some girl is or how much weight they're lifting in the gym. For once he would love to overhear some intelligent conversation, but he guesses this isn't the group to demand it from.

Castiel sighs heavily as he wipes down the counter with one of the disgusting rags they have lying around, his eyes fluttering close every two seconds. Most days he loathes this job with his entire being; the pay isn't that great and the hours are almost cruel. Seriously, who needs coffee at four in the morning? Shouldn't these people be sleeping or something? But every time he thinks about giving it up his father's voice rings loud and menacing in his ears, that smooth tone crawling into this psyche. I _'m counting on you to graduate with your pre-law degree, Castiel, no matter what. If that means working your ass off in a coffee shop thirty hours a week then that's what you'll do. You're my only hope to keep this business in the family. Mess this up and I'll never forgive you_.

He shivers as the words of his father, Lucifer Novak, once again reverberate through his mind. It spurs him to pour another shot of espresso and chug it down in one gulp, the warm liquid slithering down to his stomach and shaking awake his mind. That eerie voice still lingers in his head through the morning rush, motivating him to check every order for perfection, to make every customer feel like they're at home. Even though it's a scare tactic he appreciates his father for the gesture. It reminds him of his purpose in life, of what he's been destined to do since he was eight years old: finish college and become a lawyer. That's what his father has been telling him since that fated debate competition all those years ago, saying that this is the way things are and have to be.

If he was being honest with himself, Castiel never questioned it. The Novak law firm had been in the family for over a hundred years, passed down throughout the generations. As the oldest son it is his responsibility to carry on the legacy, to live up to his Novak namesake. If that meant slinging coffee orders over counters and cleaning up after messy hipsters to pay the bills, then so be it.

The rush comes and goes, Castiel's espresso high wearing off with the receding of the crowd. He looks around and sees the sun filtering in through the windows to warm the now empty space, idyllic jazz music playing in the background. Even though he sometimes can't stand his job, he's always loved this little coffee shop for its charms. The yellow couches that are scattered throughout the space fill the room with brightness, put off by the inky black pillows. The barista station has any spice or syrup you can possibly think of, and the music (while being incredibly odd at times) is soothing to his busy mind. Especially at times like these where the room is empty except for Castiel, he feels a calmness flow through him just by looking at the place, the neatness of the perfectly lined coffee tables making him feel at order with his thoughts.

"You daydreaming again, Novak?" a voice rings out from behind him.

Castiel turns and finds Jessica Moore smiling brightly, her teeth gleaming an iridescent white. For a split second his imagines an eight year old Jess standing there, all curls and freckles and limbs. But when he blinks again a clearly adult Jessica Moore is there, all smiles and blushes and curves.

"When am I not?" Castiel responds, brushing past her as he strips off his work apron and hangs it on one of the hooks.

"Good question. But I have a better one for you."

"Hm? And that is…?"

"…I need a favor."

The tiny break in her voice automatically sets Castiel's nerves on edge. He's known Jess his entire life and she doesn't use that tone unless she really wants something from him. Castiel has encountered this enough over the years to expect the worst.

"Jess, if you're going to ask me to drive you across the country to see some boy again I swear to God-"

"It's not a boy-well it is-but no continental travel is needed this time," Jess stammers over her words.

Castiel turns towards her and gets the biggest puppy eyes he's ever seen. Whatever she's getting at, she wants it bad.

"Okay, give it up. What do you want this time?' Castiel says with a bite in his voice, but it doesn't phase Jess at all. She leans against the counter and rests her head in one hand, batting her eyelashes up at him.

"I need you to talk to a guy…"

"Oh no, not again, Jessica Moore! Remember what happened last time you asked me to scout out a guy for you? He hit on me and tried to take me back to his apartment for 'a relaxing massage'."

"That's because you froze and asked him 'is that a flirtation?'" she mimicked in a raspy voice, trying to match Cas's lower register.

He blanched at her. "I…I don't sound like that!"

"You so do, but that's not the point. Are you going to do me a solid or not?"

Castiel shuffles his feet and leans back against the counter while Jess grabs her apron from the corner. She throws the garment around her head and squeaks when it gets caught on one of her earrings, making her curly blonde locks puff up around her head like a lion. The surprised look on her face throws Castiel over the edge; he's never been able to resist the charms of Jessica Moore.

"Okay, fine. I'll bite. Who is he?" His eyes scan the space but sees no one around besides the stocky book clerk in the store across the hall.

"Sam Winchester," she says with a dreamy smile on her face. "He works in the bookstore with his brother. Tall, dark, handsome, totally smart and has the most gorgeous hazel eyes ever," she swoons as she brews up a fresh pot of coffee, so distracted that she adds way too much water and it all overflows onto the ground. She curses under her breath as the liquid hits the linoleum and splashes on her shirt in the process.

Castiel grabs the rag from the sink and leans down to help her clean up the mess. "You've been working in coffee shops since high school and I've never seen you spill a drink. This guy must be something special?" he asks, even though it is clearly written across her face.

As if to prove the point her face blushes a bright red. "He really is. We have Economics 310 together and I can't get up the nerve to talk to him. He sits right in front of me and has the most profound answers in class, and I can't stop thinking about him! Please wingman for me this one time and I will never ask for this again! Please, Castiel James Novak?"

"Well…I can never resist a girl who uses my full name-"

"Ah Castiel, you're the best!" she squeals, pulling him into a rare, unexpected hug. "I will do anything you want in return!"

He can't suppress the grin that comes to his face. "Anything?" he responds with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Jess doesn't hesitate to slap him with the wet towel. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Novak," she chastises playfully. "Not anything anything. I was thinking among the lines of I'll buy you ice cream or get you a huge pizza or something."

"You know me well, Moore," he sighs heavily whist grabbing her hand to pull them both off the floor. "Now, where is this unlucky bastard I'm talking to?"

"You're so mean to me," Jess says with a slight pout to her lower lip, crossing her arms over her chest. "He's over at the bookstore right now. I saw him restocking some shelves a little while ago."  
Castiel throws her one last look of disdain while he clocks out of his shift, then takes his leave from the shop. He can practically hear Jess's airy sighs of contentment as he walks across the hall and into the silent bookstore, his eyes scanning the space for anyone who matches her description.

He's actually never stepped foot in this bookstore before, despite working across the hall from it for the past four years of his life. It always seemed so dull to him, the white walls dingy with age and the carpet stained with who knows what. And if that isn't enough the stingy store owner is no belle of the ball either. He is a stout and slightly pudgy British man who refuses to leave a customer alone without making a sale. The whole ordeal is something Castiel has been trying to avoid. _The things I do for you, Moore._ Castiel thinks bitterly.

When he doesn't find anyone at first glance Castiel starts gleaning through the stacks of books, eyes scanning over the titles as he passes by. He even lifts his hands and lets his fingers trail over the spines, feeling the grooves and indentations of the titles slide under his touch.

"They're real beauties, aren't they?" a gruff voice sounds out behind him.

Castiel turns around and automatically stumbles back, completely overtaken by the man in front of him. Tall, dark, and handsome, he fits Jess's description perfectly besides the eyes. Instead of being a hazel color like she said they are the most striking green Castiel has ever seen, like the color of freshly grown grass. He can't help but blanch at the man; he's the most gorgeous creature Castiel has ever laid his eyes on. If this is the kind of guy Jess is going after, he doesn't blame her for getting all flustered.

"Are…are you Sam Winchester? he asks quickly, cringing when his voice breaks.

The man laughs heartily and leans back against the stack of books, popping a piece of gum in his mouth. "No that's my brother, but why look for him when you have me? I'm much more interesting." The wink he throws Castiel is enough for him to lose his train of thought.

_Don't say 'is that a flirtation,' Castiel. Do not say 'is that a flirtation…'_

"Is that…a flirtation?"

_DAMMIT._

"Huh, you're not the king of social normality are you?" The man sticks out his hand and throws a lazy smile in his direction. "I'm Dean. Dean Winchester."

Castiel manages to get his jaw off the floor long enough to grip Dean's hand and shake it. "I'm Castiel Novak," he says gruffly, trying not to blush at Dean's raking gaze.

"Castiel? Is that even a real name?" Dean laughs, dropping his hand in the process. "Sounds like something that came out of a fake name generator or a really bad alias."

"It's biblical," Castiel mutters embarrassingly. "All of the Novaks are named after angels. Balthazar, Gabriel, Lucifer-"

"Oh please," Dean interrupts with a harsh laugh. "There is someone in your family named after the devil?"

"He was an beautiful angel before he fell, you know," Castiel says defensively, but he knows it's a lost cause. Once he tells someone that his father is named after the infamous fallen angel there is no going back. Dean is clearly no exception.

"O-kay," Dean emphasizes with a grin, "what does he do for a living? Is he a priest of just a devil in disguise? Is he a dance teacher? Do his students dance with the devil?"

Castiel just sighs, used to the cheesy one liner jokes that always come with his father's name. He hoped Dean would be above it but clearly not. Why can the cute ones never have any intelligent thought? "Go on all you want, but I didn't come here to talk with you," he says with annoyance coloring his tone. "Can you please point me in the direction of your brother please? My friend Jess asked me to wingman for her and I've got class in fifteen minutes."

"Dammit Cas, am I really that boring? Or are you just really into moose sized humans with hero complexes?"

"Cas? Did you just call me Cas?"

"Yeah, it's a lot better than Castiel right? And you have to admit it's cute too," he says with that bright smile of his that lights up the room.

He honestly doesn't know what to say. Why is this Winchester taking the time to blatantly flirt with him? If he's being honest with himself, Castiel never thought himself worthy of pursuit. He's nothing more than a guy with cringeworthy social skills. He's only been in two relationships. One was a girl from high school named Meg and she only dated him because she had a quite disturbing crush on his father. Easy to say it didn't last more than a few weeks. The other was one he couldn't even think about, wouldn't allow himself to remember because of the horrid memory of it all. Nobody has never been interested in Castiel. Why now?

"So…," Castiel whistles uneasily, "I've got class so I'm going to go. Nice to meet you, Dean."

"Now hold up, Cas. You're not going to give me your number? A Twitter username? Anything to contact you with?" Dean asks. He grabs a random book off the shelf and unceremoniously rips out the first page. "Don't leave me hanging, man."

Castiel just blanches, those rich emerald eyes capturing his with a playful look. The stare lasts ridiculously long, almost to the point where he doesn't know how much time has passed. _Well Castiel, say something! What are you waiting for?_ "…I'm pretty sure you're going to have to pay for that book." _Goodness Novak, you're worthless._

Dean laughs heartily as he pulls out a pen from his back pocket, shoving the vandalized book and the pen in his direction. "What Crowley doesn't know won't hurt him, and if he finds out I'll blame it on you."

"Geez, thanks for that. I feel so special now," Castiel deadpans while taking the objects from Dean's hands, scribbling down his phone number in his messy handwriting. He's very aware the whole time that Dean's gaze is still fixated on him. It's like he can feel that stare burning through his skin to reach into the depths of his soul.

With one last flourish of the pen Castiel writes down the rest of his contact information and shoves the items back into Dean's awaiting palms, purposely avoiding those eyes. It's like he instinctively knows that if he gazes back into those depths he will never want to leave. "I really have to go now, but I left my number and email there in case…y'know…need to get a hold of me or whatever."

"Wow Cas, I'm not a college recruiter or somethin'. I just wanna hang out a bit, get to know you a bit better."

Castiel lets out an insincere laugh. "Really? And why would you want to do that?"

Dean leans back on his heels and throws Castiel the saddest look he's ever received. Cas breaks his promise to himself and looks back into those depths, finding a thousand years of sadness hidden in that gaze.

"Is it really that shocking that someone would be interested in you?"

"Someone, no. You, yes," Castiel replies with a shrug of his shoulders.

He expects a witty response from Dean but only gets silence. He looks over and finds the Winchester looking at him with a warm gleam in his eye, a tiny smile spread across his face.

Castiel tilts his head and throws him a confused look back. "What's wrong, Dean?"

"Nothing, Cas, it's just that…why is it so shocking that I'm into you? Is it because I'm a guy because if that's a problem for you, or if I read you wrong then-"

"-Dean," Castiel interrupts with a shake of his head. "It's not because you're a man. I just can't figure out how a guy like you, someone who is suave and funny and kind would look two seconds at an awkward guy like me, that's all."

Dean lets out a heavy sigh. "You really don't see how adorable you are? Okay, here's what we're going to do. You're going to come back here in an hour when I'm on my lunch break and I'm going to list out all of the great things about you while we sit out back and get high off each other's company, you understand?"

No, Castiel doesn't really understand but he nods his head in agreement anyway, trying to hide the nerves brewing inside. Lunch. With Dean Winchester. A guy he only met a few minutes ago. Talking about whatever comes up between them. It's not something Castiel would usually do, meeting up with a random stranger to talk about life, but for some reason he can't resist this man's charisma.

"Um…sure?" Castiel reluctantly agrees.

The Winchester smiles back brightly and slaps Castiel on the shoulder. "It's a date then and yes, Cas, that was a flirtation."  
  
He doesn't get to say anything before Dean turns and walks away whistling, leaving him behind with an angry red blush coloring his cheeks.

* * *

Castiel really tries to concentrate in his Advanced Business Ethics class, he really does, but his professor is droning on about work conduct and he's got better things to occupy himself with.

Every two seconds Cas finds his gaze drifting from the the erratic hand gestures of his professor to the clock on the wall, counting down the minutes in his head until he sees Dean again. Castiel can still feel his gaze on his face like a bad burn, can still visualize those emerald eyes searing into his memory against his will. The Winchester had stolen his attention more than he would like to admit or could afford; he was in his senior year and everything had to be perfect. He didn't have time for romance with pretty bookstore workers or any outside distraction. It was then that he decided he would allow himself one lunch with the Winchester. Only one lunch and then he would leave Dean alone for good, even if it was the last thing he wanted to do.

His resolve seems firm in his mind through the class period, even holding out while he runs across campus, but it all falls apart when he finds Dean lounging on the concrete steps behind the building reading Cat's Cradle, Castiel's favorite novel. Damn that boy for having impeccable taste in literature. And if that isn't enough, Dean looks up and throws that searing gaze once again in Castiel's direction combined with a little smirk on his lips.

"I'm so screwed," Cas whispers to himself.

"Well, look who it is!" Dean says loudly. "Angel boy has returned once again. Couldn't resist me, huh?"

"No, I couldn't." Castiel replies quickly as he takes a seat next to Dean on the cool concrete, averting his eyes to the ground. "I tried though, don't get me wrong."

"Ah…well…uh…"

Castiel looks down at Dean and smiles. "Have I rendered the great Dean Winchester speechless?"

Dean throws him a slightly annoyed glare.

He laughs. "Oh don't get petty on me. The only reason I tried to get rid of you is because I can't afford distractions and you are already interfering with my work ethic."

The Winchester throws him a confused glance before scooting into Castiel's space. "We only met today! If I've corrupted your life already then that's a new record."

"Yeah, well then I guess I'm easily corrupted. But the point still stands that I've got a degree to finish and I can already tell that you, me, whatever this is between us will be counterproductive to my studies. Therefore I will allow myself one lunch with you but that's it; no more. If I mess my senior year up my father will never forgive me and all my work will be for naught."  
He expects his little speech to get through to Dean in some way. He thinks Dean is going to nod and accept his terms, but Castiel should already know better than to expect anything from the Winchester.

Dean smiles hugely and says "You're a pre-law major, aren't ya?"

Castiel leans back on his heels and eyes Dean suspiciously. "How did you know that?"

"Because you're talkin' like you're reading legal advice out of a textbook instead of speaking like a normal person. C'mon, Cas, talk to me like I'm a friend and not a business contract you've got to sign."

"I'm sorry," he apologizes quickly. "Can I be completely honest with you?"

Dean nudges Castiel's shoulder with his own. "That's the first step to a successful friendship I've heard."

"Well then to be completely honest with you, Dean…you're sort of terrifying."

The Winchester looks at Castiel with sadness and amusement coloring his gaze, something Castiel never knew could exist in the same look before.

"I'm terrifying? Me? Terrifying? I work in a bookshop with my brother and a stuffy Brit. My biggest crime is the amount of speeding tickets I have on my record, and I'm a high school dropout with six bucks to my name. If you're scared of me then I really don't want to know what else you're afraid of."

Castiel doesn't know how to respond. Yes, Dean does terrify him because he's new and mysterious. He's terrifying because he's the first person Castiel has honestly been interested in. It is freaking Castiel out to the core because he's known the guy for less than two hours and he already has feelings that he simply can't define, feelings that say Dean is someone special whom Castiel shouldn't let go.

But of course he says none of this, opting for the cop out of Dean's little speech instead. "High school drop out?" Castiel asks dumbly, as if Dean didn't explicitly say that already.

The Winchester sighs and leans back against the pavement, his hands brushing Castiel's accidentally. Castiel moves it away quickly when he feels the contact and he swears he sees Dean smile a bit.

"Yeah, high school wasn't for me," Dean replies with a little bite in his voice. "Got through the first three years but after that my desire to go really went downhill, so one day I just looked my uncle in the eye and said 'I'm not going back' and he said 'Okay son, it's your choice' and that was the end of it. No questions asked. Of course it caused a heyday with Sammy of all people, but he was just a kid and I wasn't in the mood to be convinced."

"But if you're a high school dropout, how are you here?" Castiel asks bluntly. "Why come to college if you couldn't even handle high school?"

"Hey, now don't go assuming things you know nothing about, Novak," Dean replies with a glare, his face tightening like he's in pain. "I chose to leave for personal reasons, not because I wasn't smart enough or somethin' like that. I could handle it just fine."

"You still didn't answer my question," Castiel grumbles.

"Damn man, you're stressin' me out with all this twenty questions crap. I've gotta take a hit."

Castiel thinks it is just an expression, a play on words. The last thing he expects is for Dean to reach into his coat and pull out a small bag of joints and start smoking, the smell of pot hitting his nose fast and hard.

"Wha…Dean! What the hell is that?"

Dean looks over at him with alarm in his eyes. "Wait, Cas-"

"You're going to do illegal drugs on the job? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Cas, you don't understand at all! It's-"

"Is this why you dropped out of high school? To get high all the time?"

"IT'S MEDICINAL, OKAY? I'VE GOT FREAKING CANCER SO I DON'T NEED YOU YELLING AT ME. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?"

The silence that rings through Castiel's ears is deafening. No, Dean doesn't have cancer. He's seen people with cancer and they don't look like Dean. People with disease coloring their veins have hooded eyes and thin skin and death on their breath, and Dean has none of those things. He thinks it is all a cruel joke until he looks over at his tight set lips and angry glare.

"Oh wow…Dean…"

"Save it. This is why I don't tell people. I can already see the pity rising in your eyes. Thanks, but no thanks. I don't need your sympathy." Dean breathes in the smoke and lets his eyes flutter shut, leaning back against the brick wall behind him. When he props one leg up on the stoop Castiel can't stop and stare because he looks like some sort of model.

"I'm not dying, you know. At least not yet," Dean mutters through the veil of drugs, his body slumping with the stimulation running through his system. "I've been in and out of remission my entire life so this is nothing new. Chances are I'll pull through like always, so if you're thinking about starting some campaign on my behalf, please don't. You would be the kind of person to do that, set up a fund for a guy you met fifteen seconds ago."

Castiel doesn't know what to say; he's never known anyone with cancer before. How do you even try to comprehend the pain they are feeling, the emotions that must be like pins and needles in their psyche? But of course in his typical Castiel fashion he says none of this, opting for probably the worst thing he could possibly say in that moment instead.

"Do you have your medicinal marijuana card on your person?" _Real smooth, Castiel. Way to go._  
  
Dean stops mid inhale to throw a smiting glance over at Castiel. "Are you for real right now? I tell you I have freaking cancer, something I never tell anyone, and you're asking me if I've got my legal card on me from the great state of California? Seriously dude, were you born without basic social skills?"

"I-I'm sorry. This is just all very new for me and today has been weird enough and-oh crap I didn't mean that your cancer is weird or anything-"

"Whoa Cas, buddy, chill. I'm not mad at you or anything; people act weird around me all the time, but you don't gotta treat me any differently than a normal person. Just because I've got a disease doesn't mean I'm a breakable snowflake that will melt under your touch."

Castiel sighs heavily and looks long and hard at the Winchester. He's right and Castiel knows it. Dean looks strong sitting there with that joint in his mouth, still breathing in the smoke like he's in his own personal Nirvana. He doesn't need Castiel to come in and throw a pity party, especially when the only thing Cas knows about cancer comes from a fictional work named The Fault in Our Stars.

"Okay, I get it. You don't need a kid like me who is clueless about your disease to come into your life and act like I'm your personal savior. I get it, I really do. But if you're looking for a friend right now, or just someone to be there for support, then I'll be around, Dean."

Dean sighs heavily and gets up from the ground with a wince in his face, taking the joint between his fingers. "Listen Cas, I've got to get back to work. I think you're a great guy but I've only known you for a few hours now. Granted, they have been some of the weirdest hours of my life and I've got freaking cancer, but let's hold off on the kumbaya and friendship bracelets until we know each other a little better okay?"

Castiel smiles. "Is that an invitation to hang out again? Maybe start over from this whole mess of an experience?"

The Winchester grins back. "Yeah, I guess it is. Tell you what, Cas, I'll stop by that coffee shop of yours sometime and grab something to drink. Then we'll talk about everything and I'll even let you feel bad for me."

Castiel shrugs. "And when will that be exactly?"

Dean laughs lightly and throws the most promiscuous wink Castiel has ever seen. "Eh, I'm one for spontaneity. Just…look out for me okay?"

Castiel nods his head. "Okay, sure. That's good."

"Good. Well then, I'll see you around.," Dean says.

“Yes, I will see you around,” Castiel replies quickly, turning to walk away, but stops in his tracks. “Dean!” he calls out.  
  
He spins around and finds the Winchester right in his space, the smell of weed heavy on his clothes. Cas has to blink a few time to regain his focus.

“Yes, Novak?” Dean asks slyly.  
  
Cas blushes a little but shakes it off. “The reason I was looking for Sam earlier was because my friend Jess is into him. Could you do me a favor and tell him to keep an eye out for her? Apparently they have Econ together tonight.”  
  
Dean grins. “The classic wingman, are ya? All right, I’ll pass on the news to Sammy. No worries, Novak. I’ll see you around, okay?”  
  
Cas smiles. “Okay, Dean. I’ll be seeing you around.” He turns around and starts to walk away, but he doesn’t get far before that gruff voice calls out from behind him.  
  
“Hey! Cas!”  
  
Cas turns around to see Dean throwing the used joint over his shoulder, sliding him one last little grin.  
  
“I lied about the medicinal part.”  



	2. Goodbye Apathy

“Dude, seriously? I thought you were done doing pot on the job. Crowley is going to flip when he catches a whiff of you and I’m not taking the fall this time!”  
  
Dean listens to his brother’s enraged whispering while he flips through the pile of books in the back room. Sam leans against a box of used textbooks while he gestures wildly with his hands, the words coming out of his mouth slowly turning into white noise in Dean’s ears. He just shrugs at the right parts and continues on with his work, ignoring his brother like usual. Instead he thinks of the boy from the coffee shop, that Castiel he’s so enamored with. Lord knows the last thing he needs is another person to hurt when he inevitably bites the dust, but from the minute he lay eyes on that barista Dean knew he was something special. If Dean thinks about it, he’s sure it is the eyes that make Cas stand out among the rest. Sure, he’s got a well built body and hair that looks like he just had wild sex in the break room, but it’s those sapphire depths that pull one into his presence, a quiet intelligence swimming behind the surface.  
  
“Wha…Dean! Are you even listening to me at all?”  
  
He breaks out of his trance to find Sam glaring at him from across the room, hands on his hips in a ridiculously sassy fashion. It would have been funny if it weren’t for Sam’s tightly set lips which showed his true distaste with the situation.  
  
Dean sighs heavily while he saunters over to Sam’s side, leaning against Crowley’s wall of rejected books. “What can I say, Sammy? I was stressed and the opportunity presented itself. You really going to tell a dying man what he can and can’t do with his body? Who knows how long I’ve got left, ya know?”  
  
He knows it’s a total cheap shot but nevertheless it works. Sam’s bitchface slowly fades into one of strain and sadness, and Dean automatically feels bad about pulling the cancer card.  
  
Sam crosses his arms over his chest as he walks away from Dean and over to the books he’s supposed to be sorting. “You know there is no solid evidence yet that smoking weed helps with cancer treatment,” he says as he takes a seat cross-legged on the ground, separating the books by genre.  
  
Dean shuffles his feet and walks over to his brother, grabbing from the massive pile of texts Crowley insists they get sorted and shelved today. He breathes out before he says the words that have been on his mind since the diagnosis. “Yeah well...maybe I don't want help.”  
  
The room immediately falls silent after the words Dean has wanted to say for so long spew out of his mouth. Sam automatically stills and lays the books down on the ground, turning to his brother with a look of both anger and fear in his eyes.  
  
“…What are you talking about?” Sam says with a shake of his head, almost like he’s trying to knock out Dean’s confession from his thoughts.  
  
“It’s just…I’m tired, man. I’m tired of being told to ‘fight the good fight’. I’m fed up with the pity looks I get from everyone who knows about my disease, and I’m damn sick of all of the diagnosis and remission that has been a constant in my life since elementary school. I’m tired, Sam. I’m so tired and sometimes I think it would be easier to just end it all, okay? Is that such a crime?”  
  
Silence. He expected as much because Sam can’t possibly understand what he’s going through. It’s one thing to know someone with cancer, but another thing entirely to actually have that toxin roaring through your veins on a daily basis. He doesn’t know how much Dean hides behind his carefully placed mask, trying his best not to let on how bad it can be. There are days when the pain is so ravaging, so strong that he can’t even look Sam in the eye and fake it. Those are the days when the thoughts creep forward, the dark abyss taking over his mind easily. It would be so easy to just take a little too much of that pain medication he’s on, to drift into sleep and never wake. No more pain, no more pricking and prying, no more treatments that only put the cancer at bay for a few months before coming back stronger than before. No more doctors telling him with every relapse that his chances are dwindling, going from 90/10 to 70/30 to the latest and most grim diagnosis, 50/50. It could all go away with the popping of a pill or the trigger of a gun. But he pushes the thoughts away quickly. Dying is easy; living is harder.  
  
“Dean…,” Sam says with the throwing of his hands, breaking the silence, “…how could you think so little of yourself?”  
  
“Huh, isn’t it obvious? I’m nothing, Sam! I’m nothing but this disease that’s eatin’ me alive as we speak! What have I got going for me, huh? All I’m doing is working at this bookshop and takin’ photography classes. You’re the only person who would care if I’m gone now that Dad has been AWOL for who knows how long. Why wait for the inevitable to hit me? I’m a bomb ticking ticking ticking and one day I’m going to explode. Why not just detonate me now instead of waiting in fear daily?”  
  
All of this comes out with a huff of breath and Dean collapses against the floor with the effort, rubbing his eyes. Cosmos burst behind his vision and Dean knows he pushed it too far this time, that if he doesn’t calm down the blackness of unconsciousness will come, another horrible side effect of this disease. He can already see the darkness encroaching on the edges.  
  
“Whoa, Dean you need to relax.” Sam scoots over to Dean’s side and lays a hand on his back. “You’re getting too worked up again and you need to listen to me. I know this is tough for you. I know that with 50/50 chances at life you probably feel bleak right now, but there’s still a good chance that you’ll pull through again. You’ve done it two times before so third time is the charm, right?”  
  
Dean sighs. He hates when his brother is right. “Fine…you’ve got a point,” he grumbles while he picks up one of the books from the stack, shoving it over to the correct pile.  
  
“I’ve always got a point. You haven’t learned yet? I’ve only been around for twenty-two years,” Sam says with a smile, punching his brother lightly in the arm.  
  
He grins back at his brother and hits him with the nearest book. “Yeah yeah, you’re a freaking saint you asshat. Now help me with these stacks before that British bastard we call a boss comes and chews me out for not being done yet.”  
  
Sam sighs heavily and heaves up the stack of books they sorted out, Dean following suit. They bring them out to the bookshelves and stack in silence, the tension still electric in the air around them like a live wire. Dean knew saying he wants to die was a stupid move; now Sam’s going to be watching him like a hawk until it all blows over.  
  
When the last textbook is carefully placed on the shelf, Dean automatically starts walking back to the desk to enter the new books into the system, but a heavy hand lands on his shoulder.  
  
“Dean,” Sam’s low voice rings out into the empty space, “…please don’t do anything stupid.”  
  
He huffs out a breath, long and slow. The words from earlier come rushing back into his head. Why? Why should he want to live when there is an expiration date tied to his soul? But he doesn’t voice any of this to Sammy. Instead he hides it all like the expert actor he’s become since the diagnosis and says “Of course, Sam. I wouldn’t dream of it.”  
  
Dean’s fake smile must be convincing enough for Sam, or at least is enough to get his brother to stop asking questions. Sam pats Dean on the shoulder and points at the clock on the wall. “Looks like it’s closing time and I’ve got Econ class in five. You okay to lock up on your own?”  
  
“Of course; have fun in class. It sounds like a blast,” Dean mutters under his breath. He’s about to leave Sam so he can start clearing out the store when Cas’ earlier reason for coming in here pops into his head.  
  
“Hey, Sammy!” he calls.  
  
His brother turns around. “Yeah?”  
  
He smiles. “Look out for a girl named Jess in your class. I think you’d really like her.”  
                              

* * *

  
Dean is not depressed, despite what all the doctors say. Okay, so maybe he thinks about death constantly and oftentimes finds himself brooding alone in his room with only a sense of dread to accompany him, and it is possible the fact that Dean is laying here thinking of all the ways he could end his life is a sign of depression, but Dean is not depressed.  
  
It’s not like he doesn’t know how morbid it is, planning your own death. He always tries to push away the thoughts before they take hold, but tonight he has no luck in beating out his own masochistic nature. He imagines the pills he has to take every morning. Would it be so hard just to take one too many, shove a handful down his throat? Or what about that gun he has stored in his closet? One bullet would be enough to do the job. There are a thousand ways to end one’s life; jumping off a building, stepping in front of a moving train, setting yourself on fire. He could even go all Virginia Woolf and walk into a lake with heavy rocks in his pockets, never to resurface.  
  
Okay, so maybe he is depressed after all.  
  
All of these thoughts race through his head along with that grim diagnosis, the defeated face of the doctor fresh in his mind like it happened yesterday. It only makes him toss and turn in his tiny bed that is way too small for his 6’2’ frame, the four walls of his studio apartment bedroom making him feel claustrophobic. That enough sparks feelings of unrest in his soul, and he absentmindedly thinks again how easy getting away from this world can be.  
  
Dean flips over so that he’s staring out the window, eyes fixated on the road beyond him. The city is extremely lively tonight even at the late hour; cars zoom by with their rumbling engines and light swims on the street as headlights pierce the darkness. He hears sirens blaring loudly outside his window accompanied by a couple of drunks talking voraciously, the men waddling outside his building. None of it helps the hopeless feeling that is pooling in his stomach that making his thoughts race.  
  
A light clicking of the door followed by hushed laughter breaks Dean’s morbid thought process. He listens carefully and hears Sam’s low voice whispering outside his bedroom door, followed by a trilling female one. He grabs his phone from the bedside table and checks the time. After he blinks back the blinding light he sees that it is 1:30 in the morning, the voices growing louder then falling silent with a hushed “shhh” from Sam. He can’t help but smile to himself when he hears the voices fade behind a closed door. _You go get her, Sammy._  
  
He knows it’s ridiculous, but when he hears his brother’s soft laughter through the thin walls only then he realizes he could never do it, could never take his own life. He’s got Sammy to take care of; who else will look after the kid if he’s gone?  
  
As the dark funk breaks he fills his head with all the things he loves. All the usual images come to life; Sammy, his parents, and of course all of the places he’s photographed over the years fly through his mind and fill him with new hope. But tonight there is another aspect to his rebound, a pair of cerulean eyes that flash in and out of his mind like a beacon.  
  
He ends up falling asleep to a blue gaze filling his thoughts.  
                                   

* * *

  
The next morning Dean wakes up to warm sun rays on his face, his head lolled off the side of the bed. The aroma of Sammy’s Saturday pancakes rolls in from under the door and he automatically wants to vomit. It makes Dean’s being fill will annoyance. Before he got sick, his brother’s breakfast cooking was the best part of his Saturday; now the smell only makes his stomach turn, his constant reminder that he’s walking poison.  
  
He considers shoving his head under the pillow to block out the sensation racking his body, but instead finds himself shoving on a pair of old jeans and a flannel shirt from his dirty laundry bin.  It doesn’t even really register with him where he’s going while he slings his leather jacket over his arm and pulls on his boots, walking out the door without a word to Sam or the pretty blonde sitting at the kitchen table.  It doesn’t hit him where he’s exactly headed as his feet jog down the street like they are on autopilot. It isn’t until he finds himself walking into the familiar coffee shop with the bright canary yellow furniture and the annoying jazz music that he realizes he’s looking for a certain sapphire eyed Novak.  
  
At first his eyes wheel around the room and find nothing, but then his gazes catches Cas in the back room leaning over a mop, his eyes fluttering closed as he sways on his feet. Dean can see the fall happen before it starts. He instinctively jumps the counter and catches Cas just as he’s about to slide to the floor with a bang, grabbing him around the waist as he jerks awake with a gasp.  
  
Dean’s eyes meet Cas’s.  
  
“…Dean?” Cas says confusedly. “What are you doing here?”  
  
Dean helps him back to his feet and steps away awkwardly, pretending that Cas’s weight in his arms doesn't feel nice.  
  
“I said I’d visit you and let you cry over my cancer story, right? Well here I am and I’m ready to be sobbed over. You free?”  
  
Cas leans the mop in his hand against the countertop and peers back into the break room. “Raphael the manager is not here yet so I’m sure we can engage in some conversation before he shows.”  
  
Dean can’t help but snort out a laugh. “Cas, buddy, what did we say about talking like a lawyer? I’m an average Joe, not a robot you’re programming. Loosen it up now, pal.”  
  
Cas actually grins at that and walks out from behind the barista station, Dean following. He’s close enough to Cas that he can smell the scent of vanilla syrup and coffee beans on his being, wafting in the air behind him. Usually a smell like that would make Dean’s stomach turn, but instead he just feels warm and full with the scent.  
  
Cas wanders over to the couch by the window and takes a seat, gesturing for Dean to join him. He expects the chair to be soft like its outer appearance and flops down onto the surface. Pain ripples through his body as his butt slams down on the stiff cushions, little pinpricks of blinding torture sliding through his system for a minute before it fades away.  
  
“Dammit, Cas! What kind of furniture do ya got in this place?” Dean asks harshly.  
  
Cas tilts his head like a little bird and throws Dean a squinty gaze. “The kind for sitting?”  
  
_Oh damn, this guy does have the social skills of fish_. Dean throws his hands up in the air and leans back in his seat.  
  
“Okay, Cas. You wanted to know all about this little disease that’s takin’ over my life, so shoot. What do ya want to know?”  
  
Cas leans forward and puts his head in his palm, his eyes blowing wide with curiosity. “I want to know everything.”  
  
Dean stares back, entirely dumbfounded. Everything? It amazes him enough that Cas would want to know a single thing about him, but everything? Maybe there is something loose in that kid’s cranium after all.  
  
“Uh…well…where do I start?”  
  
Cas just shakes his head like it’s obvious. “From the beginning, of course.”  
  
And so Dean does just that; he crosses his arms and settles in for the story of his life, starting with the early memories when things were still bright and happy. He replays to Cas all of the family vacations with his parents and Sammy, spending weekends at water parks and horse races to pass the time. He tells Cas about the time him and Sammy got lost in the Dells and almost got kidnapped by a couple of hicks in a sketchy van, only for their mother to pop out of nowhere and punch the guys in the face before steering them away. He talks of baseball games, long nights camping with their father and Uncle Bobby, days that seemed to last forever.  
  
Of course, the good times had to end. He can feel the enthusiasm leave his voice when he speaks of The Year, the one that changed everything. Cas can clearly sense the change because he scoots a little closer to Dean on the couch and leans his head back against the hard surface, throwing him that confounded gaze once again.  
  
“My mom died when I was eight years old; Sam was only four. She was diagnosed with stage three ovarian cancer earlier in the year and things were looking bleak. She could barely move and we had to hire live-in hospice care. She knew she wasn’t going to survive this and hell, I think towards the end she'd welcomed death like an old friend. But it wasn’t the cancer that killed her because life’s a bitch like that. No, it was our idiot neighbor illegally burning leaves too close to our property and the wind blew the pile into our house. The whole building caught fire and my dad had to save either his sons or his wife, and of course my mom yelled at him to take the boys and run. I don’t remember much else besides having Sammy shoved into my arms while my dad dodged the flames with us in tow, the house collapsin' just as we rolled out the door with our mom still inside. It was rough.”  
  
“Dean…” Cas starts, but Dean cuts him off with the wave of his hand.  
  
“Don’t, Cas. Just don’t. This…this is somethin’ I never talk about, ever. I have no clue why I’m even telling you this other than the fact that you’re basically a stranger to me and I’ve got nothin' to lose.”  
  
Cas doesn’t respond, but nods his head at Dean to continue on.  
  
“Well, that whole year was one big ball of crap. After we lost mom in November my dad got really bad with the alcohol consumption and basically became vacant. For six months I was Sammy’s caretaker, making sure he was fed and gettin' to kindergarten everyday. Nobody noticed anything was wrong until I started to lose a bunch of weight. That’s when Bobby stepped in and realized the situation. He helped my dad clean up, sent him to rehab while he raised us like we were his own sons. Hell, he was more like a father to me than John ever was. And things were good, for a short while.  
  
“But of course nothing good can last with the Winchesters. Bobby started noticing that I wasn’t eatin’ much and thought it was just me trying to save food for Sammy. He told me that there’s always plenty to eat and that I should take my fill, but I explained to him that food lately was making me sick. I was constantly nauseous, my head pounded. We thought it was just a bad stomach flu so I stayed home from school for a few days, but then I got a 104 fever and was rushed to the hospital, and well, the test results spoke for themselves.”  
  
Cas sits there openmouthed, a hand propped on his leg to keep his head up. Those blue eyes stare back at him with an ever increasing intensity, making Dean feel a bit uncomfortable if he is being honest with himself. He isn’t used to being the center of attention. He is never the special one in the family; that is always his Sammy the honor student, Sammy the recipient of a full ride to Carver University, Sammy the future lawyer. All Dean ever is is the “sick kid” whose life is hanging by a thread, the high school dropout, the one whose only talent is taking halfway decent photos of plants and people. He’s never deemed his life important enough to talk about, but Cas seems legitimately interested as he rants on, that gaze never leaving his own and never waving in the rapt attention it holds.  
  
Dean shakes his head and comes back to the present, realizing quickly that Cas is still waiting for the rest of the story. “And so,” he begins again, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “they pulled me aside and broke the news to a nine year old boy that he has stage two ‘acute lymphoblastic leukemia’ that requires immediate treatment. They said a bunch of other medical words that I blocked out at that time because the only thing runnin’ through my head was the fact that my life now had an expiration date attached to it.  
  
“Everything during the next few months was a blur for me, filled with tests and lots of needle prodding. I talked to a thousand different doctors and went into so many radiation rooms it’s a miracle I didn’t turn into the freaking Hulk or something crazy like that. Anyway, after a thousand different conversations and tests later they determined I was an eligible candidate for this crazy new treatment plan that was supposed to be extremely helpful to kids with ALL, so they hooked me up to a machine and pumped some sickly yellow medicine into my body for a few days and bam, the ALL was gone and I was in remission.  
  
“I thought I was out of the woods then, that this was just a one time thing, but when I was eleven the symptoms started again and was declared as out of remission. I only had a 70/30 chance of survival this time around and the treatment wasn’t easy. I had to go through chemo for a freakin’ long time before it actually started doing somethin’ and I wasn’t declared cancer free until I turned fifteen. Of course I thought then that I was done, that the universe was finished crapping on my life, but two months ago everything started up again and now the ALL is stronger than ever before.  
  
“So there, now you know everything. Satisfied?” Dean says harshly, the storytelling making him tired and edgy from the sleepless night before.  
  
Cas leans back in his seat and whistles lowly, ringing his hands together. “Wow, Dean. That is quite the story you’ve got there. Can I ask a question though?”  
  
“Sure, anything,” Dean replies with a shrug of his shoulders.  
  
Cas sighs before speaking. “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but what are you…survival odds this time around?” He cringes as he asks the question.  
  
Dean grimaces. This is the part of the conversation he’s trying to avoid because he knows how people react, but he gives up the information anyway.  
  
“50/50,” he spits out quickly, avoiding Cas’s widening eyes.  
  
“50/50? That’s a coin toss, Dean!”  
  
“You think I don’t know that?” Dean interrupts angrily, gripping the couch with his nails. “Do you think that I’m unaware that my chances of surviving the next year are slim? I know damn well what my odds are, Cas. No need to tell me.”

He immediately feels bad after spewing out the words. Cas curls in on himself like a chastised cat and turns his gaze away, staring at the floor.  
  
“Look Cas, I’m sorry,” Dean apologizes quickly, heaving out a sigh. “I’m just edgy right now because I haven’t been sleepin’ well and I’ve got my first round of chemo treatment on Monday.”  
  
Cas immediately perks up at that. “Chemo treatment? Where?”  
  
“At St. Peters Memorial at eleven. It’s going to suck like hell and Sammy has to miss class to come help me get home. It’s really annoying being someone’s baggage, you know that?”  
  
“You’re not baggage, Dean,” Cas replies. “And if you feel bad about your brother…how about I take you there?”  
  
Dean blanches at him. “Really? Not to be rude, Cas, but we don’t really know each other that well…”  
  
“-Dean,” Cas interrupts, “You just spent the better half of two hours telling me all about your life.  If it makes you uncomfortable, we could pass the time with me telling you my story. That is, if you’re looking for a distraction during the whole ordeal.”  
  
A little smile creeps across his lips despite himself. Cas does have a point; if you don’t have something to pass the time during chemo then you’re basically just stuck thinking about your disease, and that’s the last thing Dean wants after last night’s depressive state. Yes, a distraction is exactly what he needs.  
  
“Okay, I’ll bite. I’ll meet you here at 10:30 and we’ll catch the bus over to the hospital. Sound good?”  
  
“Yes, that sounds plausible,” Cas replies with that little grin on his face. “I’ll be there at 10:30 sharp.”  
  
“Good, because ya can’t be late to these things or else the nurses will inject hot sauce into your veins.”  
  
Cas tilts his head to the side and throws Dean one of those confused looks again. “Is that legal?”  
  
Oh God above, he can’t help himself. Dean breaks out in fits of laughter, not even caring that the sensation makes him feel lightheaded and a little nauseated. “Oh god, Cas, if this friendship thing works out and you don’t get a sense of humor sometime soon I’ll die from your presence alone!”  
  
He expects Cas to laugh along, but all he does is shake his head in confusion. “So…they don’t infiltrate a Mexican sauce into you?”  
  
“You know what, you’ll just see what happens when you come. Don’t worry ‘bout it, Cas. No one is turning me into a human taco anytime soon.”  
  
Cas still looks like a confused little puppy, but his attention is diverted when a man loudly clicks his tongue from behind the barista station, beckoning him over. By the clearly distasteful look on his face Dean is assuming that is Cas’s boss.  
  
“Oh no, I’ve got to go, Dean,” Cas says quickly, getting up from the couch in a flash. “That is Raphael and I think I’ve upset him. But I won’t forget about our plans. Monday at 7:30, right?”  
  
Dean heaves out a sigh. “Cas, were you listening to me at all?” he begins, but gets cut off by a gleaming laugh from Cas. _The bastard._  
  
Cas throws Dean a cocky smile. “Who says I don’t have a sense of humor, again?”  
  
He tries to come up with a witty comeback but doesn’t get the chance before Cas throws him an absolutely sinful wink and walks into the back room, leaving Dean and everything he thought Cas was in a cracked pile behind.


	3. Bloodstream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, we've gotten to the chemotherapy portion of this tale. This was a hard chapter to write because one, chemotherapy is very different for each person and two, all of the research I found was rather vague. That being said, I'm sorry if there are any inaccuracies in this chapter. I'm a layperson when it comes to this subject so I just tried as best as I could. 
> 
> Regardless, I hope you enjoy it!

At exactly 10:30 on the dot Monday morning Cas finds himself literally sliding into the coffee shop. He’s sure he looks like a hot mess; his day started off with his alarm blaring loudly two hours later than it should have, followed by the realization that he wouldn’t have time to take a shower. He barely had time to throw on clean clothes before running out of his dorm room at 10:27 at a breakneck speed, pushing past professors and students alike as he trekked his way across campus. And if that wasn’t enough, he didn’t see the “Caution: Wet Floor” sign that was posted outside the coffee shop and ended up slipping and sliding his way into the space, finding himself sprawled out on the floor without only a blurred knowledge of how he got there.  
  
When Cas finally gets his surroundings he looks up and finds the one and only Dean Winchester standing over his person, gleaming emerald eyes and all, laughing his behind off at the situation. He automatically feels the red blush creep up his cheeks and he tries to hide his face but to no avail. Dean’s loud, gruff laughter is reverberating throughout the entire room and people are now staring.  
  
“Now I know I asked you to be my distractor for the day, but we haven’t even gotten to the damn hospital yet! Better save something for when we’re there, buddy.” Dean reaches down and offers Cas his hand.  
  
“No, I’ve got it,” Cas says as he stumbles on the wet hardwood, slipping and sliding all over the place. Who thought throwing water on the floor without soaking it up counted as mopping?  
  
“Cas, please,” Dean moans, “don’t be like that. Let me help you. Just because I’ve got cancer doesn’t mean I can’t lift like a pro.”  
  
“Fine,” Cas says hesitantly, even though he still internally doubts that Dean’s body can take the weight. The surprise that rips through his body when Dean easily yanks him up from the ground must be clear on his face, because immediately afterwards Dean starts laughing again.  
  
“Like I said, I’m stronger than I look. Now c’mon,” Dean says as he’s walking out the door, “we’re gonna be late.”

* * *

St. Peters Memorial may be the most drab place Castiel has ever set foot in and that’s saying something. When Dean and him walk in the front door Cas is automatically overwhelmed with the nauseating smell of bleach in his nose and that distinctive stench that just comes with hospitals. The walls aren’t the sterile white that one would expect but are instead covered with old, peeling flowery wallpaper that looks like it has been around since the fifties. And to top it all off the front desk is made of yellow stained wood with scratches all over. The only pleasant thing about the room is the young, bright blonde behind the desk who Dean automatically saunters up to with a Cheshire cat smile on his face.  
  
“Ah, Hester! Looking beautiful as ever,” Dean says with the click of his tongue, leaning easily against the desk.  
  
All the while Cas tries to suppress the little jump that comes into his stomach at the sound, desperately telling himself that he’s not at all jealous of this woman. How could he be? He has no claim on Dean and he barely knows him. Yet when the receptionist clearly throws a flirty smile back, he can’t help but clench his fits a little.  
  
The blonde, Hester, giggles softly as she leans below the desk and grabs a stack of papers. “I’d say I’m glad to see you Dean, but to be completely honest we were all praying that you would never come back here.”  
  
“Well, that is really sweet of you guys,” Dean replies while he takes the papers from Hester’s hand, automatically signing his name a thousand different places on the page. “Not that I don’t love you ladies, but I was hoping for the same thing.”  
  
“Dean,” Hester whispers from behind the desk, and Cas automatically sees the shift in her eyes. “…we heard about your diagnosis this time around. I’m sorry the odds aren’t better and of course we’ll try to do everything to make you as comfortable as we can.”  
  
Dean pauses signing the forms to heave out a sigh, his eyes averted to the page. Cas sees his shoulders slump from behind, and he likes to think that for a short moment Dean is truly showing how tiring this all is, how he isn’t Superman and needs a little help. But of course that little crack fades just as fast as it came, and Dean automatically perks up again seconds later and starts scribbling on the paperwork once more.  
  
“You guys always do,” he responds. Dean flips through the pages quickly and then hands them back to Hester, who then starts typing on her computer at the speed of light.  
  
“I’m glad of that,” she says with a slight smile. “Well then, everything seems to be in order. You know where the chemo treatment center is, I’m sure?”  
  
“Only been there a thousand times in my life,” Dean mutters bitterly under his breath. “Down the hall, to the right, room 19.”  
  
“Very good,” Hester says. “Good luck, Dean.”  
  
He throws her one last smile. “Yeah I’ll need it.”  
  
Dean turns to Cas and gestures for him to follow. He walks at a slow pace down the tiny hallway that is no better than the lobby. The floors are concrete with stains engrained into the surface and there is no natural light to be seen, only the harsh florescence glow to guide their way. Cas watches as Dean wanders ahead of him, his steps a bit off kilter. He automatically runs to catch up and grabs hold of Dean’s waist before he slides to the ground.  
  
“Dean!” Cas calls, clearly alarmed, holding Dean up. “What happened?”  
  
Cas looks down on Dean’s wheeling gaze and catches it, seeing the clear amusement behind the man’s eyes. “Is this going to be our thing? Catching the other before they fall?”  
  
“Are you okay?” Cas heaves Dean up by his arms and gets him on his feet again, watching as he shakes his head quickly. He’s about to call for a nurse when Dean throws him that amused smile, light laughter breaking out between his lips.  
  
“Ah…so I can trust you to take me home after all! You see, that was a test. Now I know you’re strong enough to drag me along if need be; I usually look like a drunken sailor after these treatments and Sam needs to practically haul me back to the bus. But you should have seen the look on your face though! You care about me after all, don’t ya, Cas?”  
  
He knows he should be angry but Cas can’t help but laugh along and hit Dean in the arm.  
  
“You’re a bastard; let’s go,” Cas says as he starts wandering down the hall once more, Dean’s light laughter following him down the hallway to brighten up the dank space.  
  
After a few more turns Dean runs in front of Cas and pushes open a set of double doors.  
  
“Welcome to my second home,” Dean says with a grin, but Cas can hear the hidden tiredness in his tone.  
  
The room Dean reveals to him is way different from the rest of the space. The back wall is all windows that look out onto a fresh garden with a fountain in the middle, and bright sunlight filters in through the glass. The walls are painted a light blue and soft music plays throughout the space, combined with the sound of crashing waves in the background. And to top it all off nurses run around covered in plastic, tending to patients around the room who are all in different states of disrepair. Cas feels a certain calm come over his body and he temporarily forgets that this is a cancer center, but that all crashes when he looks to the left and sees a little girl no older than five attached to an IV drip, her hair gone and her eyes sunken into her head.  
  
“Not what you were expectin’ right?” Dean says roughly, pulling Cas out of his trancelike state. “When they remodeled the place a few years back most of the budget went into the cancer treatment center. When I first came here when I was nine it was a dump; I felt like I was sittin’ in a lab instead of a place where you’re supposed to be healing. And now-“  
  
“And now it’s all sunshine and rainbows and everything nice, and let’s be real, it’s a little bit sickening to me.”  
  
A woman appears behind Dean and taps him on the shoulder. She’s a bit older with laugher lines on her face and her brunette hair has a few grey strands sticking out at the front. Dean spins around fast and in an instant has his arms wrapped around her, patting her on the back.  
  
“What are you doing here, Winchester? I thought we got rid of ya the last time you were around these parts,” the woman asks with a slight Southern accent. “And where’s your brother? He hasn’t been ‘round to visit me in ages!”  
  
Dean grins and lets go of the woman, holding her at arms length. “Damn, it’s really good to see you again, Ellen.”  
  
The woman, Ellen, grins at Dean and then looks around him to Cas. “Well well well, who do we have here? Sammy gave up on ya, huh?”  
  
“Of course not,” Dean responds quickly, clearly not happy with the jibe at his brother. “He had a class he couldn’t miss. This is my friend, Cas. Cas, this is-“  
  
“Ellen Harvelle,” she cuts him off with a flick of her hand. “Stage two breast cancer patient who has been sassing Dean Winchester since he was nine,” she replies with a smirk. “My daughter, Jo, should be around soon. Nice to meet you, Cas.”  
  
“It’s Castiel Novak,” he replies quickly. “Nice to meet you, Ellen.”  
  
“Well well well, look who’s back again.”  
  
Behind Ellen appears a blonde woman in a tight black tank-top, her hair thrown up in a messy bun. She’s pretty, Cas has to give her that, and he can’t help but notice the way Dean shies away when the girl appears.  
  
“Hi…Jo,” Dean mutters under his breath, a bright red flushing his cheeks. Cas once again has to remember not to be jealous.  
  
“Long time no see, Winchester. Not going to lie, I hoped your last time here would’ve been it. Cancer’s back again?”  
  
Dean doesn’t say anything; he just shakes his head and walks over to the plush chairs lining the west wall where a nurse with bright red hair is waiting for him clad in her plastic apron, gloves, and goggles. Cas follows with Ellen and Jo trailing behind, Ellen taking a seat next to Dean. Another nurse dressed like the redhead pops up next to the Harvelles, and Cas can’t help but think that he’s in some kind of Frankenstein remake and not a hospital for a moment.  
  
The redhead’s name is Anna; Cas finds out from reading her name tag. She jokes around with Dean while she prods and pokes him with a needle, eventually finding the right vein after a few tries. Cas sits off to the side awkwardly, not exactly knowing what to do. It isn’t until after Anna hooks Dean up to a drip with clear liquid inside that Dean throws him a little smile and gestures for him to come over, his hand patting the empty chair next to him.  
  
“You’re not ditching out on my already, are ya? You promised me a story, Cas!”  
  
Cas blushes a little. “That was before I knew you’d have friends here. I’m sure you would rather catch up with them.”  
  
“Please; we’ve heard all of Winchester’s stories over the years! Let’s get some fresh meat up in here,” Ellen jokes easily, her face scrunching up slightly when the needle enters her arm. Cas can’t help but notice that Jo automatically jolts forward, grabbing her mother’s hand for support.  
  
His mind races when he thinks of what story to tell. Being the son of a world-renowned lawyer means that Cas and his brothers have been everywhere, and he thinks of all places he could talk about. Rome, Paris, Belize, Italy, Greece, all the names he could drop fly through his head. But yet, Cas finds himself not wanting to discuss luxurious vacations just to impress; he wants Dean to know his life, his story, just like Dean told Cas his. And so he takes the advice he gave Dean a few days ago: he starts from the beginning.  
  
“I grew up in the city…” Cas begins, and from there it all spills out. He talks about growing up with three older brothers, the antics Gabriel in particular brought to their family. At first he smiles as he talks about the early years of his life, the times before he realized reality isn’t all jet plane flights across the world. But then the inevitable comes. Talks about the divorce spill out, how his mother left his father shortly after the infamous third grade debate competition, leaving her four boys behind with Lucifer to raise on his own. This leads Cas blurting out everything he’s had to hold back over the years, his true feelings about his father coming forward.  
  
“After my mother left,” Cas says in a strained voice, eyes flitting between the three people staring at him with rapt attention, “my father took away all of our free will. Suddenly our choices didn’t matter; father commanded that we follow his ways or get out of his house. He sent Balthazar and Gabriel to boarding school out east almost immediately after our mother left, saying that he didn’t have time for their antics when he has important business to attend to. Michael stuck around even though he was always at Lucifer’s throat-“  
  
“Wait-hold up,” Jo interrupts with a little shake of her head, “Lucifer?”  
  
“That was my reaction too!” Dean chimes in with a grin. “But no, his father isn’t the actual devil in disguise so don’t ask. It makes him all…prissy.”  
  
“Stop it, you two!” Ellen says in her stern voice, immediately giving Cas flashbacks of his own mother. He can’t help it; it makes him smile. “Continue on with your story, Castiel,” she says with a little smirk on her lips.  
  
“Anyway,” Cas continues on, “Michael stayed against our father’s wishes; funny how I was the one who was willing to leave but was never allowed to. My father kept me on a really tight leash all through high school. I was to go to school, go to debate team, do homework, and come home. Later, rinse, repeat if you will. I didn’t really see many people outside of my family until college.”  
   
Cas is interrupted by Ellen’s nurse coming over to detach her from the IV. He expects the Harvelles to take their leave then, but instead they stay in their seats and stare back at Cas expectantly.  
  
“And…I don’t know what else to say?” Cas asks.  
  
“Any girlfriends or…boyfriends?” Jo asks hesitantly. Her eyes fly to the ground as she asks the question and fiddles with her fingers, a little red blush rising to her cheeks.  
  
Cas laughs lowly; the one thing he tried to omit from his ramblings and that’s what Jo picks up on? He sighs before answering and fidgets with his shirt hemline. “Only two, and one I don’t even really consider a relationship. The first one was a girl who was more after my father than myself, and the other…I really don’t like to talk about.”  
  
He looks around the group and sees quiet understanding in their eyes, but no one says a word. They just nod and smile a little, leaning back in their seats. In that moment Cas is grateful that they aren’t prying. Dean in particular though holds his gaze for a bit longer than the others, the questions in his eyes burning like a raging fire. Funny how in that moment he almost wants to spill everything to Dean just from that one look despite knowing next to nothing about Dean. Funny how it isn’t the first time he’s felt that way over these past few days.  
  
“So…virgin then?” Jo asks with a coy smile on her mouth.  
  
“Joanna Beth Harvelle!” Ellen berates her daughter even though the curiosity in her own eyes is clear.  
  
“No…it’s okay,” Cas says calmly, because he suddenly realizes he’s never been this candid with almost strangers. The feeling is new and exciting and bright; he loves it. “No, not a virgin. That one relationship, the one I really don’t like talking about, was almost purely sexual. I’m not proud of it; there were no real feelings outside of the bedroom if I’m being completely honest.”  
Cas doesn’t hesitate to notice that Dean’s eyebrows shoot up at the statement.  
  
“But besides that,” he goes on, “my relationship history has been rather lacking. I really don’t mind, though. It’s given me plenty of time to focus on studies and work, even if I haven’t had the raging social life that is expected of college students. I’m graduating in the spring with a degree in pre-law.”  
  
The three glance back at him with amused looks in their eyes.  
  
“…What?” Cas asks warily.  
  
“It’s just that…you don’t seem like the lawyer type,” Jo says with a little shrug of her shoulders. “Was that your choice? Is that what you really want to do with your life? Follow the family business and all?”  
  
He sits there and stares back at the girl, a little flutter rising in his stomach. Never before has anyone asked him if he wanted to do pre-law; it was always a given that he’d follow in his father’s footsteps, be the lawyer everyone expected him to be. It makes his mind race because he knows in his gut that this isn’t what he would have chosen if he had his own way.  
  
Cas laughs low and bitter. “Is it that obvious?”  
  
“Like a bull in a china shop,” Dean replies, his words slightly slurred. Cas looks over and finds Dean slumped in his chair now, the chemo treatment finally kicking in a bit. Dean’s gaze is clouded and if Cas is being completely candid, he looks completely stoned. It makes Cas laugh a bit, but then he realizes once again where he is and shuts up immediately.  
  
The nurse comes back with papers for Ellen to sign off on, then the two Harvelle women take their leave with hugs all around. Cas can’t help but be impressed with Ellen. It only takes a little steadying from Jo for her to be on her feet and walking normally, almost as if the treatment had no affects on her at all.  
  
After they are out the door Cas turns his attention back to Dean. The circles under his eyes are more pronounced now but he seems more alert than before. He fidgets with the rip in his jeans while his eyes keep jostling open, trying to stay conscious.  
  
“Damn, you’re supposed to keep me awake, Cas,” Dean chastises lightly. “Tell me more. If you had the balls to stand up against your father what would you have majored in? Biology? English?”  
  
Cas sits there, openmouthed. “I…I-never really thought about it,” he stammers uneasily. “I was never given a choice so dreaming about something unattainable felt like a waste of time.”  
  
“Oh c’mon, Cas! What about growing up? What’d you like to do before your father sucked your happiness?”  
  
“Nothing, Dean! I’m not lying. My father is a lawyer and his father was a lawyer and his grandfather was a lawyer. Novaks are bred to be the best lawyers in the world and I always knew that was my fate. I accepted it a long time ago, so why can’t you?”  
  
Dean grows silent at Cas’s words, throwing him a slightly annoyed stare. “Fine then, Mr. Hotshot. You win. Your childhood was devoid of life and joy.”  
  
Cas huffs out a breath with his mouth pushed into a tight line. “You think you’re really something, don’t you, Dean? But what are you doing with your life? Are you even a full time student? What about a career? Ever thought about that while you’re out there boozing away?”  
  
Dean’s gaze turns from soft grass to tough emerald in seconds. “Watch yourself, Castiel.” The name comes out harsh and spiteful. “When you’ve been given 50/50 chances of living past the age of twenty five then you learn what’s important in this world. There are only two things on this planet keeping me from ganking myself: my brother and photography. So sorry if I’m not out there trying to change a world that has dealt me a crappy hand. I live my life for the things I love, and nothing else.”  
  
It feels like all the earlier lightheartedness is sucked out of the room like a vacuum. The nurses are still flitting around and the sound of ocean waves is still resounding in the background, but in that moment it is just Cas and Dean at the inevitable crossroad of their two very different lives.  
  
“But what about basic living, supporting yourself? Medical bills cannot be cheap, Dean.”  
  
Dean huffs out a sarcastic laugh and crosses his arms over his chest, cringing when the IV pulls at his skin. “Ya see, this is why I don’t hang around pretentious business guys. All of you are the same, aren’t ya? Concerned with the bills, the money, the end amount. You don’t take time to appreciate what is right in front of you. Life is more than just bills and making it rain; there’s our whole damn world to explore. Have you ever thought of that?”  
  
Cas’s silence must be all the answer Dean needs.  
 “Listen to me,” Dean says with a sigh, “I think you need a little lesson in finding beauty in unexpected places. Look, I’m teaching a beginners photography class at the Thompson Student Center downtown on Saturday mornings. I think it’d be good for you to see the world as I see it, if you’re willing…” he trails off uneasily.  
  
He doesn’t know how to respond. One the one hand, spending his Saturdays with Dean would be amazing. Even if he won’t admit it out loud, he’s already become quite enamored with Dean. Something about him pulls Cas in like a moth to a flame. But on the other hand, Cas simply cannot see himself moonlighting as an artist. Photography? Really? He’s never been creative; he almost failed every art class in high school due to his lack of imagination. How would he survive in a photography class filled with fancy hipsters and their high class cameras?  
  
“C’mon, Cas! You’re not gonna deny a dying man his wish, are ya?”  
  
Really? He pulled that card?  
  
“Okay,” Cas agrees with a sigh. “But on one condition: you can’t pull out the ‘dying man’ card anytime you want me to do something for you, clear?”  
  
“Deal,” Dean responds with a laugh and a yawn, his head falling back against the seat once more. His eyes flutter shut instantly, but a loud beeping instantly shakes Dean awake.  
  
Cas automatically jumps from his seat. “Dean? What’s wrong? How can I help?”  
  
“Calm down, sir,” the redheaded nurse, Anna is it?, calls while she’s crossing the room. “That’s just a signal that his treatment is over.”  
  
He sighs in relief and catches Dean’s amused, slightly sedated gaze. Dean stares back and it feels like they are drinking the other in, Cas studying the smattering of freckles across Dean’s face while Dean takes in Cas’s mussed hair. It’s in that moment when Cas quickly realizes that Dean is not just handsome. No, he’s much more than that. He’s simply beautiful, a piece of art. With a smile Cas quickly thinks maybe this is what Dean meant about finding beauty in unexpected places.  
  
Anna clears her throat loudly and the two break their stare. Cas runs a hand through his hair, desperately trying to cover up the red blush that must be on his cheeks. He notices quickly that Dean does the same, looking down at his hands awkwardly while clearing his throat constantly. Anna just glances over at Cas with a question in her eyes, but he brushes her off with a smile. She winks at him, and Cas can feel the redness rising to his cheeks again.  
  
It only takes a few seconds for Anna to remove the IV and bandage up Dean’s arm, to get out the forms for him to sign, and to send him on his way. At first Dean tries to get up by himself, pushing out of the lounger with little effort. Cas almost thinks he’s going to do it, walk out of this hospital by himself, but it is only seconds before Dean’s eyes are rolling and he’s tipping over onto the ground.  
  
“Whoa easy there, Dean!” Cas calls as he jumps into action, once again catching Dean right before he slams against the ground. Funny how Dean’s weight already feels routine, how the heat of his body seems familiar in his arms. It doesn't take Cas long at all to steady Dean on his feet and wrap Dean’s arm around his shoulders, practically dragging the sedated man down the halls and to the bus stop.  
  
“I never did thank you,” Dean says as they hobble their way down Berens Avenue. “You really did me a solid today.”  
  
“Hey, you needed a chaperone and I was available. It’s no big deal, really.”  
  
Dean shakes his head. “No Cas, you don’t understand! It’s a really big deal to me, okay? People don’t just drop all of their plans for guys like me. I’m pretty used to fending for myself after all of these years, and for you to just donate your entire Monday to me without a second thought? Man, that’s really somethin’. I don’t mean to get all sappy on ya, Cas, but…that’s-“  
  
“Dean, don’t worry about it,” Cas interrupts as they approach the corner right as a bus pulls up. He reaches into his pocket and flashes his bus pass as the two of them climb on and awkwardly shuffle their way to the back, taking a seat by an older, snoring man in a baseball cap.  
  
“Fine,” Dean grumbles as his lays his head back on the seat, staring at the ceiling. They stay silent for awhile, Cas choosing to watch the city pass by out the window while Dean’s eyes slowly close with the soft rocking of the bus. The next thing Cas knows Dean is completely out, his face completely angelic in sleep. Really, Cas is going to have a problem if he can’t get over how attractive this Winchester is.  
  
Cas smiles a little as he moves his gaze from the sleeping Winchester back to the window, watching as the bustling college town flies by. He can’t help but try to see what Dean sees in this world, that hidden beauty he spoke of. Cas looks at the hungover students lounging outside the local sandwich shop with sunglasses on; he takes in the garbage filled streets and the red solo cups still scattered on the ground from the weekend before. Yeah, this world is beautiful all right.  
  
The bus jerks to a stop a few minutes later in front of the University, and Cas shakes Dean awake. He jolts up with a start and his eyes wheel around the space, landing on Cas after a few seconds. “Did I pass out?” he asks tiredly, the circles under his eyes even more profound than before.  
  
“Yes, and now we must go,” Cas responds. He pulls Dean up to his feet with a grunt and once more assists Dean down the aisle, grabbing him right as he’s about to fall into the lap of a very annoyed soccer mom. He mutters a quick apology to the woman as they awkwardly stumble out onto the street and into the main courtyard. Students stare as Dean walks like a drunken sailor down the paths to the student apartments, some even offering hangover cures as they pass. Dean just ignores them all though, shoving them aside as he makes his way slowly to a brick building down the road, practically dragging Cas along. He would be lying if he wasn’t overjoyed to enter the air conditioned apartment complex and find an elevator awaiting them. He would also be lying if he said he wasn’t ecstatic when they ended up in Dean’s apartment and Dean finally flopped down onto the couch.  
  
“Okay, you’re heavier than you look,” Cas mutters as he stretches out his back.  
  
“Hey, I think I’m adorable,” Dean mutters into the pillow, already halfway gone. Cas can see him fading once again.  
  
With a sigh Cas sees a blanket laid out over one of the chairs and grabs it, throwing it over Dean’s body. He grins when he sees Dean snuggle into the fabric, bringing it up to his chin.  
  
“Well, you look like you’re going to pass out again. Need anything before I go?” Cas asks.  
  
Light snoring comes from his lips. Dean’s already asleep.  
  
Cas laughs lightly to himself and throws the man once last glance. “Goodnight, Dean,” he whispers as Cas turns to leave the apartment, leaving the snoring Winchester behind to rest.

He grins all the way back to his dorm room, thinking about Dean the entire time.


	4. Around the Bend

When Saturday rolls around Dean jumps out of bed ten minutes before his alarm sounds. He practically hums the entirety of Stairway to Heaven in the shower and doesn’t even complain that he’s up before the sun has even completely risen. He tells himself that it’s only because it’s the first day of his new photography session, that he’s only giddy because of all the new students he’s going to teach this fall, but he knows that would be a lie. If he’s being honest, all he truly cares about is one face in the crowd, a boy with dark hair and blue eyes.  
  
He shakes the thoughts out of his head as he pulls on a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt, grabbing a beanie out of his closet and shoving it on his head for good measure. It’s only 6:45 in the morning and class doesn’t start until 9, but Dean grabs his wallet from the bedside table anyway and pulls on his boots, ready to head out the door. He’s seconds away from leaving but instead collides into a blonde flash that comes out of nowhere, the two of them bumping into a coffee table and knocking over that hideous moose lamp Sam insisted they keep.  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry!” the blonde responds in a rush, stumbling back into the couch only to catch herself before falling over the back. Her curly hair falls in her face and she throws it back dramatically, revealing a set of denim blue eyes glancing back at him.  
  
Dean shakes his head and regains his balance, taking the girl in. He notices quite quickly that the only clothing she has on is one of Sammy’s old ratty t-shirts, barely coming down past her stomach. One wrong move and Dean will see quite a bit more than he bargained for on a Saturday morning.  
  
“Uh…it’s nothin-,” Dean responds awkwardly, trying to divert his gaze away.  
  
“Oh this is awkward,” the girl says with a little shrug of her shoulders, then shoves out her hand. “I’m Jess; I don’t think we’ve met.”  
  
Suddenly everything clicks into place. Jess, as in Jessica Moore, as in the girl Cas tried to wingman for. He feels the smile rise to his cheeks. Clearly her mission worked if she’s standing here in Sam’s shirt.  
  
Dean shakes his head to dislodge the thought and grabs her hand. “I’m Dean, Sam’s brother,” he says with a grin. “What’cha doing up this early, Jess?”  
  
“Oh, I was just…” she trails off, her eyes flitting to a duffel bag by the door.  
  
_Ah, the ol’ screw and run_ Dean thinks to himself, but instead says “Leaving?”  
  
“It’s not what it looks like, really,” she says with a little redness coming to her face. She walks over and grabs the bag from the floor as she talks. “I mean…I  know it looks like it, but nothing happened between me and your brother. The past week I’ve just been sleeping here because I got into a huge fight with my roommate and Sam offered to take me in. And since we’re partners on this project for Econ it seemed like a good idea…”  
  
“Hey, no need to explain,” Dean replies while he throws up his hands. “I understand. Glad to have you here then, Jess.”  
  
“Dean? What’re you doing up this early?” Sam’s voice reverberates as he walks down the hall clad in boxer shorts and a Superman shirt, his gaze hazy with sleep and his hair sticking out in a thousand different places.  
  
_Yeah, sure, they aren’t sleeping together at all._  
  
Dean shrugs his shoulders and awkwardly looks on at the pair. “Heading out to class. Y’know, a good teacher gets there early and all that jazz?”  
  
Sam throws him a skeptical smile and leans back against the wall. “Sure you aren’t meeting up with Jo? Ellen came into the bookstore yesterday and said you were blushing like crazy around her on Monday. Is there something going on between you two?”  
  
Dean laughs lightly to himself. Yeah he was blushing all right, but it wasn’t because of Jo. That honor went to a certain barista who has unceremoniously become a part of Dean’s life in the course of a week.  
  
“Oh c’mon, Sam!” Dean groans, edging for the door. “Jo? Really? She’s like a sister to me. Nothin’ is goin’ on between me and anyone right now, okay?”  
  
Sam snorts and walks past him, grabbing two of his protein bars off the table. He throws one to Jess and she catches it expertly. “Yeah, okay. You just keep telling yourself that, but I don’t believe it for a second. There’s…something different about you, Dean. I don’t know what or who is influencing it, but you seem happier than usual. I’m just curious as to what took away your grumpy cat complex.”  
  
He hides a slight grin as he shoves past his brother. “Bitch,” he calls as he walks out the door.  
  
“Jerk!”

* * *

 

When Dean arrives at the Thompson Center he is very aware of his illness. He bitterly thinks back to the few times he’s been well in his life and how easy it was to walk around the city without tiring; he’d go on for miles without ever taking a break, seeing all the sights with Sam by his side without a care in the world. Now he’s exhausted just from walking the seven blocks to the building and is already anticipating the nap that he’s going to have to take later in the day. Dean pushes aside the fact that if he’s this exhausted from walking then it means he’s not getting any better, and that his 50/50 chances may be slimming even further.  
  
No, he won’t allow himself to think like that. He sighs heavily as he pushes open the door to the classroom and flicks on the lights, taking in the space he knows so well. The Thompson Center has been his second home ever since his first diagnosis, back when Bobby would do anything Dean asked just to make him feel better. At the time it was buying him lots of ice cream and letting him take photography lessons down here in this very classroom. Now fifteen odd years later Dean’s the one teaching the classes; it’s his classroom with his class name scribbled on the board with his dry erase markers. It’s his cameras that line the walls, his desk that has registration forms splayed all over it, his Cas that is-  
  
“Oh, shit!” Dean swears loudly as he takes in Cas sitting at his desk, pushing buttons on his favorite camera.  
  
Cas automatically jumps up in surprise and drops Dean’s prized object harshly on the table, the lens cracking. He’s dressed like he’s about to go into a business meeting and not a photography class, clad in a black suit with a blue tie that is backwards on his body. He even has a ridiculously long tan trench coat on over the ensemble, making him look incredibly dorky but also weirdly attractive.  
  
Dean just stares back at Cas and throws his hands in the air. “Dude, what the hell? How did you get in here…and what are you wearing?”  
  
“Clothes?” Cas says with a shrug of his shoulders, leaning back against the wall. “No, I have mock court at five tonight and I didn’t want to go back to the dorm first. And um…the door was open and that’s how I got in,” Cas mumbles quietly. He turns away from Dean. “I thought you said the class started at seven and not nine. I can go…” he trails off with questions in his eyes.  
  
Dean sighs loudly and runs a hand through his hair, walking over to the desk to grab the now broken camera. “You cracked my lens,” Dean says through gritted teeth, trying not to let his anger show.    
  
“Apologies,” Cas says gruffly. “I’ll buy you a new one today if you like; I’m really sorry, Dean.”  
  
Dean puts the object down and plops down in a chair, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Look Cas, it’s not that big of a deal,” he replies. “I’m just beat and the walk here was tiring. Sorry if I’m a bit snappy.”  
  
Cas tilts his head and stares at Dean intently. “You don’t have to walk here, you know. I have a car and I could give you a ride every week. I don’t want you getting worn out, Dean.”  
  
“You have a car?” Dean asks with a little bit of surprise in his voice. He doesn’t know why but he always assumed Cas was one of those health nuts like Sam who walk everywhere. “Really?”  
  
“Yes. It’s been passed down through my brothers,” Cas replies. “First it was Michael’s before father tried to convince him to attend law school by buying him a Camero. Then it was Balthazar’s before he went off, then Gabriel had it for a few months before father deemed him too irresponsible to take care of it. Now it’s mine.”  
  
“Can I see it?” Dean asks, broken camera forgotten for a moment.  
  
Cas smiles eagerly. “Of course. It’s out back.” He gets up silently and gestures for Dean to follow his lead.  
  
Dean follows Cas without a word, treading through the empty halls quietly. He peers into a few offices and as usual finds people sleeping at their desks, the work from the night before piled around them. He even stops at the office of Chuck Shurley, a local writer of fantasy novels who never leaves the building, and knocks on the window to wake him. He throws the startled author a little wave before he catches up with Cas.  
  
Cas weaves around corners for what seems like hours, Dean slowly tiring out even from the short walk. When he sees the door to the back alleyway he almost audibly sighs in relief but holds it back. He doesn’t want to be one of those people who complain about their illness all the time.  
  
When he exits the building and walks around the corner Dean’s lays his eyes on the most gorgeous car of his life. A 1967 Chevy Impala is parked in the alley behind the building, its shiny black exterior glimmering in the early morning sunlight. Dean thinks he’s drooling, but he honestly doesn’t care.  
  
“Dude, this is wicked!” Dean says as he circles the car, letting his hands trail over the silky surface. It’s the type of vehicle he always dreamed of as a kid, the type of car he used to draw during kindergarten arts and crafts time. It’s the beauty he’s always wanted but never could afford right before his eyes.  
  
“Is it? I don’t really know much about cars. It’s old and hardly runs anymore; the radio is completely useless and the back seats are in less than desirable condition due to Gabriel’s rather…indecent adventures over the years. I’m pretty sure I’m going to sell it soon for parts, bring it to a junkyard somewhere and find something a bit newer.”  
  
Dean automatically stills and flicks his head up so fast it almost gives him whiplash. “Like hell you’re selling this car! You don’t just throw away a 1967 Chevy Impala, Cas. Do you know how hard these things are to come by, and in a condition like yours nonetheless? You may think its useless but lemme tell ya, this is a beauty right here. What I would give to get my hands on this baby…”  
  
He’s so caught up in the car that he doesn’t notice a set of keys flying through the air, sailing until they hit Dean right in the forehead. They fall down onto the Impala’s hood and Dean just gapes at them.  
  
“You think you can fix it?” Cas asks, amusement coloring his tone. “Go ahead then. I don’t see any value in this car right now; prove me wrong and I’ll keep it. You can have the car until you finish. I prefer walking anyway.”  
  
Dean flicks his eyes up and looks into Cas’s eyes. He sees a light humor there, but no joking. Cas is staring back at Dean with an expectant expression, almost as if he’s waiting for an answer.  
  
“Dude, are you for real?” Dean exclaims brightly. He eyes the car with envy and picks up the keys gingerly, thumbing over the gold key attached to the chain. A light flutter rises in his chest; is this really happening right now?  
  
Cas laughs and gestures for Dean to open the car door. “I’m serious, Dean. She’s yours if you’re willing to work on her. Do you…” Cas trails off, eyes flitting to the ground quickly, “want to take it out for a ride?”  
  
He doesn’t know what to say. The first thought that comes to mind is that this is just another ‘cancer perk’, one of the many pity gifts that come with the diagnosis. Cas has to only be doing this because Dean’s got a disease, because he can’t possibly think Dean’s going to last long enough to fix the thing. But then again, he can’t help but hope that this isn’t just another pity gift to add to the long list of cancer perks he’s gotten over the years.  
  
But now does it really matter if it’s out of pity or not? Cas is offering him to drive his dream car, so Dean shoves all those thoughts aside and practically waltzes over to the drivers seat, positioning himself inside the vehicle with a grin on his face. The leather wheel under his hands feels like paradise, and the seats fit him just right. It’s as if he was destined to drive this beauty.  
  
When he sticks the keys in the ignition and the engine revs to life, Dean doesn’t hesitate to find the classic rock station and turn it all the way up. Cas motions for him to go on from outside, leaning against the brick building with a lopsided grin on his face. Dean drives away fast to hide the giddiness in his body.  
  
It drives just like he imagined, all smooth and fast and full of life; the engine rumbles under his seat and he cranks down the ancient windows, letting the city air blow through the cab. “When the Levee Breaks” is blasting and Dean is badly lip-synching along, banging his hands on the steering wheel to the beat. He almost doesn’t notice that Cas wasn’t kidding about the car being out of shape until he tries to break at a red light and finds the car barely slowing. He finds himself swerving out of the way of a pickup truck and almost running into a building, his stomach jumping into his throat.  
  
“Okay, new breaks needed ASAP,” Dean whispers to no one, his grip still tight on the wheel. It’s  only then does he notice all of the other imperfections in the car, big and small. The gas pedal constantly is stuck under his foot, the rearview mirror is barely hanging on, and the seats are torn beyond repair. The radio only gets two stations: one classic rock and the other Spanish news. Rusted pipes, busted glass, torn seats, and yet despite all of it’s imperfections, when Dean pulls back into that alleyway he already knows he is in love.  
  
“Well, what do you think? Is she fixable?” Cas asks as Dean hops out of the drivers seat.  
  
He just sighs heavily. “It’s going to be a lot of work; I don’t know how long it’ll take, but I think we can save her,” he says.  
  
Cas throws him an amused gaze. “Really? You think you can save this old piece of crap?”  
  
“Shh! She’ll hear you!” Dean calls out as he leans protectively over the car.  
  
Cas shrugs. “Okay, give it a go then. Take however long you need; I prefer walking anyway. Speaking of which, we should probably get back to class. I think you’ve got a class to teach, Mr. Winchester.”  
  
“What’re talkin’ about, Novak? We’ve got time. Let’s go out for coffee or something, y’know, let me return the favor,” Dean says with a wolfish smirk on his lips. He doesn’t realize he’s using his flirting face until Cas looks away awkwardly.  
  
“Dean, it’s 8:45. You had the car out for a good hour.”  
  
Dean just blanches. An hour? What? No, Cas has to be kidding. But sure enough when he pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks the time, Cas is right on.  
  
“Crap,” Dean mutters to himself. “Well then, looks like we’ve got places to be.” He turns and walks towards the door. “You coming?” he calls back to Cas.  
  
Cas just walks past Dean and pats him on the shoulder, Dean ignoring the little tingles that run down his spine at the touch.  
  
“Yeah, Winchester,” Cas replies with a grin. “I’m coming.”

* * *

 

“Aperture is one of the most important parts of taking a good picture,” Dean says to his students, pointing to the camera diagram on the board. He looks into the crowd of about thirty people ranging in age from ten to ninety and takes in their movements with the camera, walking over to one young boy who is struggling to find the button. “It’s right…there,” he says as he takes the boy’s finger and lays it on the button, loving the little light of recognition that flies onto the boy’s face when he makes the connection.  
  
“Thank you, Mr. Winchester,” the boy whispers in a small voice.  
  
“You’re welcome, Camden,” he replies back while making his way to the front of the room. He glances over to Cas for a quick second and watches his long fingers fiddle over the buttons, trying to ignore the little flip his stomach makes when he notices the little lines of concentration on Cas's face. _Not the time and place, Winchester. Get a hold of yourself before your start puking butterflies._  
  
He clears his head and once more approaches the board, moving forward with the lecture. It’s like a perfectly practiced play now, the way he can go through this lecture without even thinking about it. His lips just repeat the words he’s said a thousand times before. Aperture, ISO, shutter speed, timing, lighting, backdrop, lenses, the basics of photography. He looks on as his students listen intently and follow along on their own cameras, his eyes sliding over each face to make sure no one is left behind. He isn’t going to lie, when Rufus retired and suggested Dean take over teaching the beginners class he thought he’d be horrible, but he has to admit that this is the most easygoing thing he’s done in his entire life. He can’t help but laugh to himself; the kid who dropped out of high school is now the teacher. Who knew?  
  
His thoughts are interrupted by the alarm on his phone blaring, indicating the end of the session.  
  
“Okay guys, that’s it for today,” he announces to the room. “Just one thing before you go.”  
  
Dean walks over to his desk and picks up the stack of assignments, passing them out among the crowd. “In order to get any good at photography you’ve gotta practice. There’ll be a few assignments throughout the semester I’ll encourage you to complete. The first one is going downtown to shoot some moving subjects; I’ll expect to see some photos by the next class. The assignment after that is freestyle, and then the final one is photographing the thing you love most in the world, so think long and hard about your subject choice. You all did great today so I’ll dismiss you now, capiche?”  
  
The students pack up their bags then and talk among themselves, exchanging names and contact information to work on assignments together. They slowly file out of the room one by one until it’s only Dean and Cas again, Cas still deeply engrossed in his notes.  
  
“Not as easy as it looks, is it Novak?” Dean responds as he saunters over to Cas, looking over his shoulder at the impeccable handwriting on the paper. He steps back a bit in shock; written on the page is an exact transcript of his lecture, word for word. “Damn dude, how did you do that?”  
  
“I’ve got an impeccable memory,” Cas mumbles as he scratches down more words, the final pieces of his lecture being inked on the pages.  
  
Dean whistles long and slow. “Well, you sure listened to me. Any questions?” Dean asks as Cas dots the final period on the page, putting the pen down gently with a light sigh leaving his lips.  
  
“Yes actually, I do,” Cas responds, then looks up into Dean’s stare. “When can we start?”

* * *

 

“Dean, none of my pictures are turning out correctly. They’re all…blurry and stuff.”  
  
Cas and Dean are standing on the steps of town hall, watching the passerby flurry through the streets around them. Cas is trying desperately to follow the notes that are scattered around on the ground, being held down by various rocks and cellular devices. Dean just sighs as he once again reaches around and looks at the photo Cas took, a very bland photo of a park bench that is way off balance and hardly in focus.  
  
“You’re not going to learn by looking at notes, Cas,” Dean says. “You learn by doing. Reading my lecture over and over isn’t gonna help you learn squat; just…go with it. Take a thousand photos and maybe you’ll get one that is acceptable. It’s hard, but that’s how photography works. I know it’s hard for you business-y people to understand, but not everything is a science.”  
  
Cas just tilts his head and shakes off the confused look on his face, turning his attention back to the notes like they’re a safety net. Dean just runs a hand over his face.  
  
“Okay, that’s it. I’m confiscating your notes.”  
  
The look of absolute panic that runs across Cas’s face is almost comical as Dean grabs the papers from the ground and shoves them in his jacket. He has to jump away from Cas as he tries to snatch the papers back, the two of them falling into an intricate dance of cat and mouse and Dean scurries up and down the steps with Cas behind him.  
  
“Dean! Give them back!” Cas calls as he jumps for the jacket, missing by inches. He stumbles down the steps and tumbles to the ground, looking like a disgruntled cat as he hits the pavement.  
  
Dean breaks out in hysterical laughter. “Really man? You gotta be like that? I told you once and I’ll tell ya again, you won’t learn from words on a page. Until you realize that I am banning you from notes until further notice. Teacher’s orders,” he says.  
  
Cas throws him a glare but gets up from the ground, picking up the camera to once again adjust the settings. He watches as Cas hits a thousand wrong buttons, fingers splaying over the object, laughing when the camera settings somehow end up being in Chinese.  
  
“This is hopeless,” Cas moans as he takes a seat on the steps, taking a few shots of the trees across the way. When Dean looks over his shoulder he sees that the pictures are once again off center and out of focus, looking like green blobs a preschooler could paint.  
  
“No it’s not, Cas. It just takes time. Let me guess, you were the kid that was good at everything, correct? The one everyone else loathed because they were the perfect student, the one who understood everything the first time around. You’re used to picking things up instantly, and now that you’re struggling on something you’re giving up. But you can’t do that, Cas! That’s part of the adventure of photography, you feel?  
  
“Yeah, I feel,” Cas responds sadly. “It’s just that…I’m not used to this whole ‘practice’ thing,” he says, his fingers mimicking the quotations in the air. “I’ve always picked up everything right away, never had to think twice about it. My father said that’s what makes me perfect for taking over the family business instead of my older brothers; I’ve got the drive they don’t, the ability to learn quickly and think on my feet. I’ve never had to practice anything, Dean, so how do I start now? What even is practice?”  
  
Dean sighs heavily and meanders over to Cas, taking a seat next to him on the cobblestone steps. He notes the obvious lack of personal space between them but says nothing, silently enjoying the closeness of Cas’s body to his. He can feel the heat radiate through Cas’s skin and he absentmindedly wonders what it would be like to have his fingers wander over the surface…  
  
“Snap out of it, Dean,” he whispers to himself, a bit louder than expected. Cas’s head automatically snaps up and his gaze finds Dean’s startled one.  
  
“What was that?” Cas asks with a tilt of his head.  
  
“Uh, nothing,” Dean flounders over his words, his face burning red as he jumps up from his seat to hide the mistake. “I was just saying that we should, y’know, find new test subjects that’s all. Hey look! People!”  
  
Dean automatically starts walking towards a group of street performers who made camp in the middle of the town square. He recognizes the group from the college, a dance crew who he always loved to photograph because of their simple and elegant style. Three women and two men fly around the square like angels in the sky, the men throwing the women into the air and catching them like they weigh nothing. He picks up the camera slung around his neck and goes into his focus mode, adjusting and clicking without a second thought. His fingers roam over the buttons, his eyes take in the intricate dance, all the while not noticing that Cas is watching his every move, taking in the teacher and his actions. When the performers stop and Dean takes a look at the pictures he took, he leans back in awe. Figures fly across the canvas in motion, only a hand or a foot being in focus. It’s weirdly artistic and not at all his usual style, but he can’t help but stare at the figures on his screen, taking in the beauty of it all.  
  
“Now how am I supposed to take a picture like that?” Cas says from behind Dean, causing him to jump in surprise. Cas is perched over his shoulder and is staring at the figures on the screen, a fierce focus in his eyes. “You capture the figures perfectly; all I’ve got is green blobs.”  
  
Dean turns around and lays a hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Look, you’ll learn it eventually. Try this…”  
  
And so the rest of the afternoon went away in a flash, the performers dancing while Dean showed Cas all the ropes of photography on a personal level. Dean spent hours hovering over Cas's shoulder, hands touching and breath mixing in the sultry summer air. Dean felt his body start to tire with the effort of standing but fought through it, not daring to leave the space him and Cas occupied in the square. Before Dean knew it the sun was on the opposite side of the sky and the shadows were splayed across the ground, indicating the passage of the day.  
  
Cas apparently notices too because he suddenly jumps away from Dean with a start, frantically searching for his phone. When he sees the time his whole body goes tense, a little openmouthed ‘o’ formed on his lips.  
  
“4:50?” he exclaims into the air, a look of panic in his eyes. “Holy-I’ve got to go, Dean. I’m going to be late for court! Dammit dammit dammit,” he mutters under his breath, pacing the space back and forth. “This was fun though; can we do it again soon?”  
  
“Uh…sure Cas-“  
  
“Okay sounds good, bye!” Cas calls as he runs away from Dean, camera abandoned on the ground.  
  
Dean just looks after Cas as he runs around the corner and out of sight, reaching down the pick up the object on the ground, running his hand over the buttons.  
  
“Yeah…see you later, Cas,” he mutters to no one, feeling like he just got shoved into a modern retelling of Cinderella.  
  
He sighs heavily and realizes the tiredness that is overtaking his body, almost as if all of his energy drained when Cas left his side. Dean fishes inside his pocket and grabs the gleaming keys of the Impala, still not believing that Cas is allowing him to work on it. He walks over to the car and climbs inside, turns the ignition, and sinks into the feeling of the seats against his back. Carry On My Wayward Son is blasting from the speakers as he peels out of the city, singing the song all the way home.  



	5. Simple as This

"Cas, _please_. You've been eyeing that Winchester for five days straight and you haven't gone over there yet. Can you spare us all and just go talk to the dude? Cas…are you listening to me at all?"

Cas jumps out of his stare to see a hand waving in front of his face, a very disgruntled looking Jess glaring at him unhappily. Her bottom lip is pouting out and her arms are crossed over her chest, her body leaning against the counter. He knows the look well and he turns away from the gaze, occupying himself with stocking up the coffee cups in the back room instead.

"I'm listening," Cas grumbles. "You want me to talk to Dean but guess what, Jess? It isn't that easy! Dean and I…we have a…uh…unique relationship." Cas wants to say that his relationship with Dean is beyond complicated, a figment that he can't even begin to understand. The truth of the matter is that Dean and him haven't spoken since that first photography class almost a week ago, but instead have been communicating between stolen glances through their respective workplaces' windows. A wink here, a long stare there, it is almost as if long looks have become the staple of their relationship, whatever that may be.

"And why not?" Jess counters back. "You like him, he clearly likes you. Boy meets boy and bam! A relationship is formed. I don't get why you don't just ask him out already, that's all."

Cas blushes red and pushes Jess aside as a customer walks up to the counter. He can feel Jess's blazing stare on his back as he rings up the woman's order and slings a coffee over the surface. He catches Dean's gaze again through the window as he does so and almost sends the drink spiraling off the side of the counter, catching it at the last second.

"Wow, you two really do need to screw, don't ya?" the woman who ordered the coffee says.

He spins around and finds a red-headed girl smirking at him, a piece of paper plucked between her fingers.

"Excuse me?" Cas asks with a little jump of surprise in his voice. Who the hell is the girl?

"I said that you and Winchester really need to find a dark closet and work out the clear sexual tension between you two. I swear, it's like watching the first five minutes of a Casa Erotica porno." The redhead leans forward on the counter and slides the piece of paper in her hand across the way towards Cas. "This is for you, lover boy."

She turns to leave but stops at the door, saluting Cas from across the coffee shop. "My name is Charlie, by the way. Charlie Bradbury. I've known Dean for a long time now and he's totally into you, by the way. You'll thank me when you're happily screwing Dean all the day long, and if those looks indicate anything it'll be sooner rather than later." She nods her head down and throws Cas a sly smile. "See you around, Novak."

Cas just gapes after her as she leaves the shop and crosses over to the bookstore. He can see her saunter over to Dean and pat him on the shoulder, the two of them glancing over at Cas with Dean giving him a little wave. The hysterical laughter of Jess is reverberating behind him and Cas just blushes profusely, giving a little salute back. When Charlie and Dean turn away, his hand hovers over the paper Charlie left behind, his heart beating fast in his chest. A huge part of him wants to know what the words on the page say. Clearly the note is from Dean, who else? After what feels like hours of waiting, Cas reaches across the space and pulls the letter into his hand, carefully opening the page.

 **The Roadhouse Bar**  
**1287 Kripke Lane**

**Be there at 11.**

**-DW**

Cas stores the note in his pocket and catches the confused gaze of Jess. "Well," he responds lightly "…it looks like I've got a date with a Winchester."

* * *

Cas pulls up to the bar at eleven o'clock sharp, his legs strained from the long bike ride. When he offered Dean the opportunity to keep the Impala until it was fixed he didn't consider how he would get around, especially this late at night when the buses were long past running in the small college town.

He shoves off the bike and lays it against the building, praying to God above that it doesn't get stolen; it's the only form of transportation he has, after all. He's sweaty and his perfectly tousled hair is now a wreck, his clothes drenched from biking in the eighty degree California heat, and to top it all off he forgot the note at home and had to circle the city five times before he found the place. Needless to say that when he walks into the dark and smoky bar ordering a beer is the first thing on his list.

"Well well well, look what the cat dragged in," a Southern voice drawls from across the counter.

Cas looks up into the eyes of Ellen Harvelle. The woman is leaning over the counter and already has his beer in hand, shoving it across the way towards him.

"Ellen? You work here?" Cas asks confusedly.

"Work here? I own this place, Castiel!" she responds. "First it was my granddaddy's, and then it was my daddy's, and then when he passed it went down me. And after I'm gone, it'll go to Jo. Unless she doesn't want it; then it goes to that monkey over there." Ellen jerks her head in the direction of a man with a blond mullet who is playing air guitar in the corner. "The kid's a genius, but I wouldn't trust him with my bar regardless of his IQ. I mean..look at him," she mutters under her breath. Sure enough when Cas turns around the man is now lip synching along with the air guitar, stumbling around the room like he's a drunk puppy.

"Okay yeah, I can see your point," Cas replies as he pops open the beer, his body automatically relaxing as the cool liquid runs down his throat.

Ellen sighs. "Anyway, I'm guessin' you're not just here to visit little ol' me, right?" She nods towards the line of pool tables in the back. "Your boy toy is back there if you're lookin' for him."

Cas jumps in surprise and slugs back another bit of beer. "Wha…Dean is…we're not…he's not my boy toy!" he splutters as Ellen looks on at him with sparkling eyes.

"Damn boy, I was just kiddin'…but maybe there's something between y'all after all!" she calls as Cas grabs the beer bottle from the bar and makes his way across the room, searching for Dean in the crowd of college students. He can hear her laughter reverberate behind him and he tries desperately to hide the blush crawling to his face.

At first all Cas sees is a sea of unfamiliar faces, one face blending into the other. The bar is packed with drunken students sprawled around on pool tables and chairs, bar stools and walls. The air is thick with cigarette smoke and ecstasy, lust swirling around in the space like a living being. Alcohol is being spilled on the ground left and right as the students fall further into a stupor, the music growing louder by the minute and the room rising with the new beat thrumming through the space. At this rate Cas is positive it will be impossible to find Dean in this crowd, almost turning around to just head back home and call it a night when he spots Dean across the way, perched next to Jo in the corner.

Cas automatically feels his heart beat a little faster, but if that's from the beer or seeing Dean he's uncertain. He fights his way thought the throng of students and makes his way towards Dean and Jo, almost knocking over a clearly drunk frat boy in the process.

When he gets close enough where Dean can hear, Cas calls out his name.

"Hey, Dean!" he yells over the noise of the crowd. "Dean, over here-"

But his words get stuck in his throat as he watches Dean duck his head to Jo's, a hand encapsulating her head as Dean lays his lips against hers.

Cas doesn't know what to say, what to do. It's like glass is shattering all around him, a roaring din in his ears. He can feel the beer drop from his hand and smash against the floor, the bottle breaking into a hundred pieces all around him, but he doesn't care. All he can do in that moment is stare until Dean leans up from the passionate kiss and catches Cas's gaze from across the room, clear surprise in his eyes.

When he sees Dean pushing Jo aside to fight through the crowd, Cas runs.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ is the mantra that flies through Cas's head as he pushes through the crowd, ignoring the annoyed looks he gets from the people around him. All he can think about in that moment is escaping this place, escaping the air that is too hot around him, escaping Dean. His body is shaking and his mind is racing, everything and everybody pushing into him at once. It takes forever but eventually Cas fights his way to the bar entrance and smashes through the door, the sultry air around him not helping his state.

He laughs to himself. Of course Dean is here on a Friday night kissing a girl like Jo. Of course he told Cas to come here; he probably thought they would just be hanging out like friends do. Of course Dean never had any romantic interest in Cas, because how could he? Dean is brilliant and complicated and raw, and what is Cas? He's just a lawyer, a man who is more robot than human. He's programmable, set to the whims of his father's will. Dean is a storm, raging and unkempt and free; why would the storm ever be interested in the concrete house it can't move?

"Cas…Cas!" Dean's voice rings out from behind, but Cas doesn't turn around. Instead he runs to his bike and pedals away, Dean's voice fading out behind him in the distance.

* * *

**Dean**

Today 12:34 AM  
Cas, please, talk to me.

Today 12:37 AM  
Can you at least explain why you left so fast?

Today 1:03 AM  
Was it something I did?

Today 1:05 AM  
DAMMIT CAS ANSWER YOU ASSHOLE

Today 1:07 AM  
Dude, I'm serious. Can we please talk?

Cas reads each text as he's sprawled out in bed, automatically deleting each one as it comes into his inbox. He feels slightly guilty, but then the image of Dean biting Jo's lip pops back into his mind and the emotion subsides, replaced with a bout of jealousy. He knows he's being ridiculous; Dean and him have only known each other for a few weeks and are not in a relationship. Why shouldn't he kiss a girl like Jo who is equal harsh lines and soft curves, a girl who Dean has known his entire life, a girl who probably knows his illness inside and out, someone who could be there for him day or night and would know exactly what to do? He should be with a girl like Jo Harvelle. Besides, Cas barely knows the guy. Why should he care? He shouldn't.

But if that is true, then why does Cas's stomach feel like it's being pummeled with angry butterflies? Why does his face flush red whenever he envisions the bright emerald eyes of Dean? If he shouldn't care about Dean, why does he care so damn much about this boy?

Cas sighs as the last text rolls in.

Today 1:36 AM  
Fine, be that way. I'll see you soon, Cas.

He doesn't delete this one but instead shoves his phone under the bed and tosses over on the crumpled sheets, trying to push any thought about Dean from his mind. The traffic buzzing outside his window gets his attention for a minute, then the footsteps of his roommate Gadreel entering the room occupy him the next. He tries focusing on trivial things, such as the BAR exam he's going to have to take or the huge history project he has due in a week, but none push away that nagging feeling in the back of his mind, the one that is telling him to go to Dean.

_No, don't do that. Don't get involved, Castiel._

His mind recites the mantra over and over, but his will slowly crumbles as the words fade from his thoughts. Why shouldn't he go see Dean? Isn't he the one who wanted to talk? Why not get his side of the story?

Cas glances over at the clock. The bright neon letters read 2:41 AM. Gadreel is snoring softly in the bunk above Cas, his hand lingering down in front of Cas's face. He knows he shouldn't go to Dean's apartment at this hour. He rambles off a thousand different reasons of why he should just leave it be. Dean is probably pissed at him now; he'll wake up Gadreel getting out of the room; the doors to the dorm automatically lock after 2 AM and he'll have to call campus security to get back in when he returns.

He crawls quietly out of bed and throws on his shoes while he pushes the thoughts aside, because what happens if he does go? Could it all just be one misunderstanding? What if Dean does care about him after all?

It's that thought that propels him to grab his phone and shove it in a pocket, to quietly slip through the door and out into the hall. He's not the only one around, some students milling around finishing late night study sessions while others are just passed out drunk on the lounge couches, sleeping off their night. It becomes clear very quickly that Cas is not one of the regulars out this late by the looks he receives, some simply curious while others are more hostile, almost as if he's intruding on their secret club.

Cas avoids the looks as he steps into the elevator and pushes the button for the ground level, breathing sigh of relief as the doors close on the passerby.

"You're going to see him, aren't you?" a voice rings out beside him.

Cas jumps in surprise and stumbles back against the railing, his eyes wheeling until they land on a familiar redhead in a blue jacket and jeans. She's smirking just like she did back at the coffee shop earlier today, her arms crossed over her chest as she throws Cas an amused glance.

"Wha…Charlie, is it?" he asks drowsily, trying to fight off the yawn that is about to escape his lips.

"Oh, so you do remember me," she replies brightly. "Nice to see you again, Cas. Did the note work? Are you and Dean a thing now?"

"No, of course not," Cas growls back. "We hardly know each other."

"Yeah, that's not the vibe I was getting this morning," Charlie mutters under her breath.

Cas blanches at her. "We're friends, Charlie. Nothing else. The better question is what are you doing up this late?"

She curls in on herself and leans back against the railing, a little smile coming to her lips. "I may be visiting someone…" she trails off.

"And that someone is…"

Charlie blushes. "Why would I tell you? I only know your name and the fact that you're really into Dean Winchester, even if you won't admit it. I don't owe you anything, Novak. But if you must know…" she trails off, a light pink coloring her cheeks, "..her name is Glinda. She's gorgeous, smart, amazing, and most importantly into girls, so I'm a bit of a nervous wreck right now. Any advice, Castiel?"

"No need to worry, Charlie. I barely know you but you seem pretty amazing, from what I can tell."

Charlie throws Cas a long look and then digs into her backpack, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen. She scribbles down a phone number and shoves it in Cas's hand. "Thanks, Cas," she replies. "That's really nice of you to say. There's my number; I've known Dean for a few years now so call me if you have any Winchester related questions," she says with a grin.

He opens his mouth to ask another question as the doors fly open, but Charlie makes her grand escape.

"Well that's all the time we have for today! Bye, Novak!" she calls as she runs out the door, leaving Cas behind.

He just shakes his head as she runs off, a little laugh escaping him. Despite everything, he can already tell that Charlie's going to be a friend.

* * *

Carver University is quite unknown in the nation. Enrollment sits at about a thousand students and the faculty is minimal, many professors teaching multiple subjects throughout the college. However, the one thing the university isn't lacking in is acres upon acres of space, spanning out for miles around you. Usually Cas is thankful for the expansive space; he never has to run into people he'd rather not see if he does not want to, but tonight when he wanders the space trying to find Dean's apartment he can't help but cuss loudly in the darkness, hating that this university goes on forever.

After what seems like forever Cas finally finds himself standing in front of the Berens apartment building, the brick walls looking like a tower above him. He stares up into the windows, trying to catch a glimpse of which one could possibly be Dean's, squinting into the darkness. He walks around the building and tries to look into the spaces, but quickly finds what an impossible task it is.

Instead, he pulls out his phone and sends a quick text.

**Dean**

Today 1:36 AM  
Fine, be that way. I'll see you soon, Cas.

Today 2:57 AM  
I'm outside if you want to talk.

He waits, and waits, and waits. Soon enough he checks his phone and it's 3:15 AM with no response from Dean. Cas knows he should call it a night, go home and get some sleep before he talks to the man, but he's too damn determined to just give up. Instead of wandering back to his own dorm room, he starts grabbing rocks from the ground and pools them in his hand. The next thing he knows he's throwing them at windows, hoping to God above that he'll by chance find Dean's room.

The first rock ricochets off a window with a loud clang, the person in the room running to the window with sleep in their eyes. When Cas sees that the person is the star quarterback, he runs before he's seen.

The second rock hits the glass louder than the last, this time the tenant ripping open the window moments after the noise disrupts their sleep. The woman wipes the sleep from her eyes and then wheels around until she looks on at Cas. She's about to yell, but Cas beats her to the punch.

"Jess?" he calls out, squinting into the darkness to make sure he's seeing things right. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Castiel? What the hell are you doing here?" she asks back, crossing her arms over her chest tightly.

"You first," he responds with a little smirk, easily falling back into the childish antics he and Jessica Moore got famous for in elementary school.

She huffs out a breath and leans against the windowsill, her hair pooling around her face. "If you must know, I've been staying with Sam Winchester for the past few weeks. It's not what it looks like!" she interjects when she sees the sly smile come across Cas's face. "He was just kind enough to take me in when Hael and I got into a huge argument. She wasn't willing to leave and there's no way I'm going back there until she apologizes, so I'm hanging out here until further notice. You happy now?"

"Well, that's a well crafted alias to hide the fact that you're sleeping with Sam Winchester."

Jess's mouth falls open and Cas breaks out into hysterical laughter.

"Ah-you-why does everyone think that?" Jess growls lowly, her lower lip pouting out.

"You're in his apartment, you haven't been seen at Edlund Hall all semester long, and you're currently wearing his clothes everywhere you go. Yes, I noticed that those plaid shirts were ten sizes too big for you, Jessica," he says slyly.

She stares back at him and just shakes her head. "Fine, believe whatever you want to believe, but we're just friends…for now," she trails off, averting her eyes. "But that doesn't answer my question: what are you doing here, Castiel? It's 3 in the morning for goodness sake!"

"Look, is Dean there? I've got to talk to him," he responds.

Jess's look of understanding is colored with one of amusement. "Oh I see, you 'need to talk' to Dean. Is that code, Castiel? Was that eye-sex I saw at work today just an glimpse of what goes on behind closed doors, hm?"

Cas sighs heavily. "Just let me in, will ya Moore?"

"Oh, so is it true then? Castiel and Dean sitting in a tree K I S S I N-"

"We're not a thing because he was making out with Jo Harvelle earlier tonight, so I really don't need this right now," Cas calls up to her, cutting her words off harshly.

Jess pauses with her mouth in an o shape, all of her teasing air gone. "Oh Castiel," she says sadly.

"It's nothing; just let me up, please."

Jess nods in agreement, meeting Cas by the door a few minutes later. She doesn't say anything as she pulls Cas into a hug, Cas falling into her embrace. He doesn't know how starved he is human contact until that moment, his arms slipping around her back like they've done a thousand times before.

"I'm really sorry, Castiel," she mutters into his ear. "I know you really liked him."

Cas breathes heavily and lets go of the hug. "I still do, Jess. I still do. That's why I'm here, because I'm not about to let this just slide by. Is he upstairs?"

She nods slowly. "He's sleeping, but you two should talk. That chemistry I saw between you two today is not something I'd let go of lightly."

"Thanks, Jess," he responds as he makes his way past her and comes to the stairs. He walks up them slowly. When he's standing in front of Dean's open apartment door, he stops and stares into the space. In the darkness it is not as he remembers it from earlier; it's a lot more rustic than he thought, filled with lots of plaid and wood trimmings.

 _You're stalling, Novak_ he reprimands himself as he stands gaping in the doorway, his stomach flipping when his foot crosses the threshold. He makes his way down the hall and hears loud snoring coming from one of the open doors, a man the size of a moose sprawled across a twin sized bed. _Sam Winchester_ he thinks to himself. He notices quickly that the man is just as gorgeous as his brother, the hair falling in his face making him look like some sort of model. _Where did these Winchester genes come from?_

He shakes his head and walks forward, trying not to trip in the darkness. Clothes are splayed all over the floor and Cas's foot gets stuck on a pair of boxer shorts as he passes. _Please let that be clean_ he thinks.

Finally, Cas steps in front of a room with the door cracked. He glances inside and finds Dean curled up in sleep, light snores coming from his mouth. He looks so peaceful, so at ease that Cas almost leaves him be, until he walks forward a step and trips over the carpet. Cas spirals into the room and lands with a loud crash, jolting Dean awake from sleep.

"Wha…Cas?" Dean asks groggily. "What the-"

"-hell are you doing here? Yeah, I've heard that a lot tonight," Cas says a bit harshly. "I believe you're the one who wanted to talk to me, if I remember correctly."

"Uh yeah," Dean replies, getting up to turn on a light. "Just…gimme a second to get my surrounding together."  
Dean stumbles back to his bed and collapses on the surface, muttering a string of cusses under his breath. He leans back and shoves his hands over his face, trying to clearly wipe away the sleep from his being. When he shakes his head and looks at Cas, he just sighs.

"Cas, I wanted to talk to you…about earlier. I'm worried about you. What happened back there? You left pretty fast. Are you okay?"

Cas huffs out a harsh laugh. Is he okay? He saw the guy he may be slowly and irrationally falling for making out with some girl at a bar. Yeah, he's the farthest thing from okay, but of course Cas says none of this.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he lies with a smile, but of course Dean sees right through him. "I…I don't know why I came here anymore. I should go-"

"Cas, don't. Please," Dean says as he lays a hand on Cas's shoulder. "You're clearly not okay. Was it somethin' I did to upset you, because Cas you ran faster than a deer during hunting season back there."

He doesn't know what else to do, so Cas just spills out the truth. "Okay yeah Dean, it was something you did. I saw you…kissing Jo back at the bar and it hurt okay? I thought…you were into guys…into me..but you're not and it's fine; we can still be friends."

He releases Cas's shoulder from his grip but Cas doesn't move. He looks into those emerald depths he know so well and tries to see into Dean, to find what is possibly hiding behind those eyes that look so heartbroken and sad.

“I do like you, Cas,” Dean says. “I like you a lot more than I bargained for, that’s certain, and I really don’t know what to do with it. I’m not one to really focus on feelings, if you haven’t noticed.”

"Then what happened in there?" Cas retorts, throwing his hands up in the air. "You invited me there and I thought it was a date, but then I find you making out with Jo Harvelle? What are we, Dean? Are we anything at all?"

"Do you want to be?" Dean responds lowly, looking up from under his lashes.

Cas stops and glowers at him. "…What did you say?"

"I said…do you want to be somethin' more? Because I've been with a lot of people, Cas, and I always find a reason to push them away. I'm not good for anyone because I'm walking poison with an expiration date attached and that always comes back to me. I push and push until people are so isolated from me that they don't even bother finding a way back, and so far it has worked out well; I can never get too close lest I hurt them. This disease is a time bomb, Novak, and if you and me are goin' to become a we then I have to know you're prepared to stick with me even when I'm about to detonate. I…" Dean stops, taking a breath and steadying himself on his knees, "…I really really like you, Cas. I want this, but I need to know that even if I try to push you to Peru you'll stand by me, even if things get tough. I can feel the end coming for me, Cas, and I'm just now realizin' I don't wanna be alone when that happens. So when I die-"

"If you die, Dean. If," Cas interrupts in a whisper, his eyes not leaving Dean's for a millisecond.

"Fine, if. If I die, I need to know someone will be there to pick up the pieces I leave behind. Would you do that?"

Cas grows silent and thinks over Dean's words. Just the thought of Dean dead makes his stomach turn, but being there to pick up the pieces? Could he do it?

He responds quickly, a warm feeling spreading across his body. "Yes, Dean. I can do that. I want this; do you?"

Dean smiles a little. "Yeah, I do."

"Then…do you want to go out with me, Dean Winchester?" Cas asks through shaking lips, the nerves rushing to his stomach.

Dean gets up from the bed and walks forward, leaning into Cas's space, bringing his lips to his ear. "I'd love that, Cas. I really would."

The smile that flies to Cas's face is probably ridiculous but he doesn't care. Confidence runs through his veins for a split second and he's hyperaware that Dean is extremely close, smelling like old leather and whiskey. It takes everything in him, but with determination he stares into Dean's eyes as he leans forward and closes the space between them, leaving a featherlight kiss on Dean's lips before quickly pulling away.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Dean," Cas responds as he walks out the door, leaving a very flustered Winchester behind.


	6. Tongue Tied

Dean doesn't sleep that night. How can he? Whenever unconsciousness tries to overtake him he's jolted awake with the sensation of unfamiliar lips on his own, a warmth that spreads throughout his body easily and purely. His mind races with images of Cas's face leaning into his space, those blue eyes fluttering close right before the kiss reaches his mouth. He replays the moment over and over again in his head, still in awe that it actually happened. Never in a thousand years did Dean think Cas had any interest in him; the fact that he did drove him to less than manly actions, which may have included blushing like a bride and punching the air in excitement after Cas left.

Never in a thousand years did Dean think that Cas had any interest in him. He invited Cas to the bar as a test, a way to feel the waters of their relationship. When he waited for an hour and Cas was a no show, he- in typical Winchester fashion- talked up Jo and used her as a distraction for his problems, even kissed her to drive the frustration of Cas’s negligence to Dean’s affections out of his head. When he looked up and found Cas looking on with what can only be described as pain in his eyes, Dean was devastated. Of course he would screw up the only good thing in his life.  
  
But when Cas showed up at his apartment at three in the morning after ignoring all of his texts, he was a little caught off guard. Of course he automatically tried to fix the mess he made. It was probably clumsy and nowhere near what Cas deserved, but it ended with Dean getting the one thing he’s wanted for a long while; a date with Castiel Novak.  
  
That being said, Dean feels like absolute crap the next morning when he wanders into his photography class five minutes late, rushing into the room with his shirt untucked and coffee running down his hand. He probably sounds like a stoner all throughout the lecture, the words coming from his mouth sounding more like gibberish in his ears than coherent thought. And when the class dismisses and Cas comes up to him, his absolutely positive that he must look like a mess from the look he receives from Cas.

"I know, I look like I spent my night partying," Dean mutters. "Was my lecture as horrible as I think?"

Cas leans back on his heels and absentmindedly plays with his camera, clearly avoiding Dean's gaze. "I'm pretty sure you said something about how cameras are like potatoes at some point…" he trails off uneasily.

"Damn," Dean says as he runs a hand over his eyes, trying to wipe out the feeling of distress and tiredness. "I didn't, did I?"

"I'm pretty sure your exact words were 'Cameras are a lot like potatoes; they are functional and delicious.' The kid next to me asked if you were high. You're not…are you?" Cas questions, his eyes squinting to look at Dean.

He sighs loudly. "God Cas, of course not, no. I wouldn't come into class stoned, and I haven't smoked since that day you yelled at me, just for your information," he says smugly. He can't help himself; it really is something he's proud of.

Cas just raises his eyebrows at Dean. "Really now?"

"Been clean for about three weeks now, Novak. Not going to lie, I feel a thousand times better without it."

Cas just nods. "Very good, then. Are we going to work on that second assignment?"

"I can't," Dean replies. "Got chemotherapy in an hour."

"Need me to come with you?"

"Nah, Sam's got it this time. You just go and…photograph stuff. Work hard. Don't do drugs…isn't that what teachers are supposed to tell their students?" Dean asks as he runs a hand through his hair.

Cas just laughs lightly. "Not unless you're the spitting image of a motivational poster."

"What can I say? I try," he laughs along. "But about last night…when are you taking me on that date, Novak? As you can see I'm a highly desirable man," Dean says as he gestures to his wrinkled pants and his now coffee stained shirt.

"Patience, grasshopper. The time will come eventually but I've got to plan first. I don't take my dates out to cheap bars and movies, Dean. You better prepare yourself," Cas says with a teasing gleam in eyes.

"Fine…but it better be worth the wait, Novak, because I'm not getting any younger."

"Give me a month," Cas responds. "Give me a month and I'll plan the date of a lifetime, one you'll never want to forget, Dean Winchester. Can I have that?"

"Fine," Dean agrees. "But no chick flicks- I don't do those."

"Good with me," Cas says back. "I guess I'll need charts to plan this out, graphics and statistics and places and-"

"Cas?" Dean asks.

"Yeah?"

"You're talking like a lawyer again."

"Oh, sorry."

"So…" Dean trails off, hating how awkward he feels under Cas's gaze. "I'll see you around?"

Cas smiles to the ground. "Sure, Dean. I'll be seeing you around. Stop by the coffee shop sometime, will ya? I think we have to convince Jess that we're not sleeping together behind closed doors."

He laughs. "Or we could just make her fantasy a reality," Dean jokes with the wiggle of his eyebrows, jumping out of Cas's way as he swipes Dean with a folder.

"You're horrible!" Cas calls out as he walks away.

"Yeah, right back at ya!"

* * *

"Sooooooo," Jess says in a singsong voice, "What happened last night?"

Dean leans back in the chair as he looks at Jess, her bubbly smile distracting him from the dull pain lacing through his body. They're back at the hospital, Dean once again smiling through the uncomfortableness as the chemotherapy laces through his veins. He can already feel the nauseousness pool in his stomach from the treatment, and he wills himself to not throw up all over Jess.

"Nothing," Dean moans into the chair, avoiding Jess' gaze. "He just…asked me out. It's no big deal really-"

"Castiel asked you out?" Jess exclaims into the air, loud enough to get stares from a few of the other patients.

"Who asked who out?" Sam asks as he wanders over to Dean and Jess, two bottles of water in hand. He gives one to Jess before taking a seat next to her on the waiting couch, closer than two people who are 'just friends, Dean will you let it go?' would be.

"Castiel and Dean are an item," Jess says with a sly smile. He can't help but notice that she leans back into Sam and he casually slides his arm around her body.

_Oh yeah, but they're just friends. My ass they are._

"Wait…is Castiel Jess's friend from the coffee shop? The one you've been making bedroom eyes at all week?" Sam asks with an incredulous smile on his face.

Dean blanches and sputters "I…no…I was not making bedroom eyes!"

Sam and Jess just fall back into their seats laughing. "Dean, your entire body language this week spoke for itself and it was saying 'Meet me in the coat closet in five'," Sam teases as he sips on his water, spilling some down his shirt when he starts laughing uncontrollably.

Dean throws him a glare and instinctively crosses his arms, the pain ripping through his body when the IV pulls at his skin enough to break the happy mood. He sucks in a breath as the sensation of a thousand pinpricks runs through his system, and Sam is at his side in an instant.

"Dean…Dean! Anna!" Sam calls across the room, grabbing the attention of the redheaded nurse.

"No it's okay, Anna!" he shouts when he sees the woman rush across the room, but that doesn't stop her from pushing Sam aside to assess the taut IV, now slightly askew in his skin.

"No, it's not okay," Anna says a bit harshly as she readjusts the IV. "It's okay for things to not be okay sometimes, Dean. How much pain are you in? You almost pulled this IV out completely; you're just lucky it wasn't the one with your chemotherapy treatment in it. Then we would have had trouble for sure. Just…be careful please?"

She walks away shaking her head and Dean can't help but roll his eyes at her, because when has Dean ever been careful about anything? He sighs heavily and slides back into his chair, letting his head loll against the seat as the usual grogginess takes over his body.

"So…," Jess says after a few minutes of silence "Castiel, huh? When are you two going out again? I need to know details, Winchester, or else I'll just annoy Castiel until he decides you're not worth the effort."

"Like hell you will," Dean mumbles back, the tiredness about to pull him under. "He said to give him a month to plan everything out. Is that normal for him?"

Jess grins a little and says "Dean, you clearly don't know Castiel that well if you haven't seen how he treats his dates. He goes all out. Expect a nice dinner, stargazing, the best wine his father's money can buy. Ha, you should have seen what Castiel did when he was going out with Bartholomew-"

She cuts herself off suddenly and Dean automatically jumps awake at the name. Bartholomew? Could it possibly be the name behind the mysterious relationship Cas never speaks of?

Jess blushes and shakes her head. "Crap, I didn't mean-Castiel told me to never speak of him. Their relationship wasn't…pretty," Jess says with a cringing grimace. "Dean, please forget that I told you anything, okay? Castiel will tell you in his own time about it, but it's a bit of a sensitive subject. I'm sorry I said anything."

Dean gives Jess a look but shoves aside the questions in his head. She's right; Cas will tell Dean when it's the right time, and who is he to pry? It isn't like he's been exactly upfront with every past relationship of his. Besides he's way too tired to argue with the girl, so he just nods in understanding and lets himself fall back into that stupor from before, hoping it blocks out the name that is now poking at his mind. _Bartholomew….Bartholomew and Cas…_

The next thing he knows an alarm is blaring by his head, signaling the end of the treatment. Is it his imagination or had the shadows moved quite a bit from when he last checked?

He groans as Anna comes over to release him from his tube chains, pulling the IVs out with care. Once he's free he immediately checks his cell for the time. _5:30? Where the hell did the day go?_

"Sammy!" Dean calls to the mostly empty room, his head already spinning from trying to get up from his chair.

His brother pops out from around the corner and jogs over quickly, helping Dean out of the chair easily. It's on days like these that he's proud that his brother was the one to eat his veggies as a kid; he's one of the few who can support Dean's weight with no effort at all, treating him like he's a rag doll in his arms.

"Wha-happen to Jess?" Dean slurs his words, the tiredness still wracking his body. He swears it's getting worse with every treatment, but he's not one to complain if tiredness is his biggest side effect.

"Work called; she had to go in and cover for someone," Sam explains as he hauls Dean over to the nurses station, keeping his body steady as he clumsily signs off on the paperwork.

Dean just nods in agreement and lets Sam fall into their usual routine of chemo days. Just like the other times Dean lets Sam carry his weight while he tries his best to move along without tripping. Sam stays silent as they walk though the streets, letting Dean rest against his shoulder. He can't help but feel bitter about the situation. Dean is the older brother, the one who always took care of Sammy throughout the years. He is still supposed to be the protector, the big brother whom Sam goes to for help. When did their roles get turned around?

He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knows Dean is being laid down in his bed, the feeling of covers warming his body. He can sense Sam's presence in the room and he turns over to find his brother leaning against the dresser, a sad smile on his face.

"Dude…did you carry me all the way up here?" Dean asks confusedly.

Sam shrugs his shoulders. "It's not big deal; you're not that heavy, Dean."

"Yeah…says the guy who is as tall as a moose," he mutters under his breath. "Why didn't you wake me? I could've walked."

"No Dean, I…you need the rest. Seriously, it was nothing. You're here now so get some sleep, okay?"

"No Sam, it's not nothing! I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you, remember? I'm the big brother…" Dean trails off.

Sam sighs and walks over to Dean, squatting on the ground. "Dean…look. I can't carry the weight that comes with this trial, but I can carry you. Will you please just let me do that?"

Dean stares at his brother in a new light at that moment. For once he can see what he must have been to Sammy as a kid. A protector, a brother, a friend, a confidant, a hero. It makes him smile, and the feeling overwhelms his system. If he were a different man he'd may have gone into a long heart to heart, but instead Dean expresses his gratitude in the only way he knows how.

"Well thanks then…bitch," he replies with a little grin.

Sam smiles back, clearly getting the point. "Yeah okay…jerk. Get some sleep now, will ya? I mean you've got to rest up if you're gonna meet Cas in the coat closet at ten."

Dean grabs the pillow from behind his head and throws it at Sam as he ducks out of the room.

"You suck!" he calls, but Sam only laughs as he closes the door and walks away.

* * *

Dean knows he agreed to give Cas a month before their date, but must the time pass so sluggishly? September lags on as Dean tries to not think about the impending date with Cas, preoccupying himself with classes and work instead. He sees Cas often enough; the coffee shop has easily become his most frequented hangout spot on campus, but Dean will never admit it's because Cas works there and he gets free coffee when Raphael isn't looking. He talks with Cas on a daily basis, spilling words about things he'd never talk about with anyone else, things like hopes and dreams and fears and accomplishments. If he's being honest with himself sometimes Dean feels like Cas has become his closest confidant, even above Sam. With Cas it is so easy, carefree, basic. Cas never fails to listen to whatever Dean has to rant about for the day, wether it be something as simple as the price of gas or as complex as the fear of the universe. Through it all Cas remains constant, a pillar in his hurricane of chaos.

However, Dean isn't satisfied with just seeing Cas at the coffee shop or around the photography class, and he isn't about to wait to get some quality alone time with the man. No, instead Dean takes a leap of faith and invites Cas over for the one cancer ritual he's always kept to himself, finally ready to let someone else in on the action.

A few weeks after the last chemo treatment Dean starts to notice the inevitable. He is working on the Impala, pounding away the kinks to a Led Zepplin album when Dean runs a hand through his hair absentmindedly, a huge chunk coming out in the process. He doesn't cry this time like he did when he was a child. He doesn't groan and whine like he did when he was a teen. All he does this time around is turns off the music, sits on the ground, and dials the number he now has memorized.

Cas picks up after the first ring. "Dean? What's up?"

"Heya, Cas. Look…I need you to come here and do me a favor…"

And that's how Cas ends up at his door thirty minutes later, an electric razor in hand and a grin on his face.

"Did someone order a hairdresser?" he asks as he crosses through the threshold.

Dean shrugs his shoulders and wanders to the bathroom, towels already laid out on the floor. "I wouldn't exactly call shaving my head as 'hairdressing' Novak," he mutters as he takes a seat grudgingly, staring at his reelection in the mirror. He tries to ignore the tiredness he sees there, the exhaustion behind the gaze.

"It is if I give you a mohawk," Cas grumbles as he walks over to the outlet, plugging in the razor.

"You wouldn't dare..?" Dean asks like a question, because what does he know? Maybe that was Cas's plan all along, to turn him into some punk hippie.

"You really need to put more faith in me, Winchester," Cas says as he turns on the device and lowers it to Dean's head.

"Wait!" Dean calls out just as Cas is about to make the first swoop. "I don't think I can do this."

Cas sighs heavily and turns off the razor, crossing his arms over his chest. "Really, Dean? It's just hair…and you don't even have that much of it for goodness sake! What's the big deal?"

Dean fiddles with his fingers and averts his eyes. "Because without my hair…I can't ignore my illness. I'll have to look at myself every day and see the sick kid, the cancer kid. I'll look like one of those people they show in hospital commercials and I'm not ready to be that guy again. Dammit, Cas, this…really sucks," Dean shrugs his shoulders.

Cas puts the razor down and steps around the chair. He leans against the counter and looks Dean in the eye, that blue gaze piercing.

"Dean…a person is not their illness. They're a person, a living being who has hopes and fears and beliefs. When someone gets sick they don't lose those things. You're not cancer; you're just Dean. So please, don't for a minute think that. Please."

He huffs out a breath and reaches past Cas to grab the razor, pushing back into his palm. "Go for it," he says sternly, forcing himself to look in the mirror.

Cas smiles a little and turns on the gadget, letting it hover over Dean's head for a second before he brings it down, sweeping a line of hair off easily. He has to stop himself from cringing as the first batch of hair cascades down around him, big chunks landing in his lap.

"You should just leave it this way," Cas teases, pointing to the bald line in the middle of Dean's head. "It's a good look for you."

Dean swipes Cas's hand away and growls "Just get the job done, Novak."

Cas complies and works on the rest of his head, sweeping and swooping left and right. Dusty blond hair falls to the floor and Dean forces himself to watch it all, his head getting balder and balder. After about ten minutes of careful shaving and checking, Cas slides off the razor and meets Dean's gaze in the mirror.

"Well…what do ya think?" he asks seriously.

Dean just stares at himself, not used to picture he sees. Funny how this time around he doesn't see a kid with an illness in the mirror, but instead just sees a man with a bald head, nothing more.

"Is my head really that shiny?" Dean asks incredulously as he runs a hand over the sleek surface.

Cas just laughs and punches Dean in the arm. "Is that all you have to say, really?"

Dean snickers back and stares at his reflection some more. "No…just…thanks, Cas. For everything."

Cas just throws Dean a smile as he grabs the razor and makes his way to the door, Dean following. "You're welcome, Winchester," he replies as he makes his way down the hall, hand reaching for the door as Dean calls out to him.

"Cas…wait," he says.

Cas turns around and meets Dean's gaze, a curious look in his eyes.

"You…wanna grab dinner?" Dean cringes as he asks, hating how awkward the words sound coming out of his mouth.

Cas closes the door and leans back on his heels. "Yeah Dean, I'd love that. But it's not a date, right? Because you're not about to take my thunder away from me."

"Of course not, Cas, I wouldn't dream of it," he teases. "I thought I'd just cook up some pasta if you're down for that."

Cas tilts his head and grins. "You never told me you're a chef, Dean."

"Now I wouldn't go that far, but I can cook up a mean hamburger. Just ask Sam," he says as he grabs the pasta ingredients from the cabinet, laying them all out on the table. "It's not hard, really. I can teach you if you'd like."

"Really?" Cas asks. "I've never touched a stove in my life, Dean. I'll probably just burn your apartment down."

"Well then, you'd be better than me when I first started. I didn't know you weren't supposed to pour oil all over the ground and Sam ended up slipping in it. Broke his arm and to this day I can never live it down," he laughs lightly.

"Dean…can you tell me more stories about you and Sam as kids?" Cas asks as he takes a seat at the table, his chin resting in his hands.

He turns and takes in Cas, looking like a child then, his face all innocence and purity.

"…Why?" Dean asks back. "Nobody ever wants to hear about my childhood stories."

"Well I do. Am I nobody, Dean?"

"Uh…okay then, Cas," Dean says as he starts pouring sauce into a pan. "Well there was this one time when Sammy and I dressed up as superheros for a day and lemme tell ya-"

Dean rambles on about different childhood stories for who knows how long, a calmness filling his system with the stories. It's like he can visualize each and every frame, images of him and Sam filling his head easily. It continues on all throughout dinner and into the night, Dean never fading as Cas listens intently. And at the end of the night when Dean's stories are through and Cas is about to walk out the door, Cas turns and grabs a piece of paper from his pocket, dropping it at Dean's feet.

"That's the day and address of our date. Don't be late, Winchester. I don't like to be kept waiting."

He throws Dean one sinfully beautiful wink before walking out the door.


	7. Coming of Age

The day of the date Cas is running around frantic, making sure everything is perfectly in place.

The planning had taken forever due to Cas's indecision. First he made plans at a fancy Italian restaurant downtown, but quickly cancelled when he remembered it was his favorite date spot with Bartholomew back in freshman year. He then thought of taking Dean to a cavern right off the beach, but quickly squashed that idea when he remembered that was where Bartholomew and him had their first kiss. Art galleries, yacht clubs, wine tastings, every idea he had came back to that first love of his, the relationship that started off so great but ended so wrongly, so harshly, that the thought of it still makes his skin crawl. Until he'd started seeing Dean, Cas had not thought of Bartholomew in ages. Why was his presence sneaking back into his life now?

Cas wracked his mind for weeks about where he could take Dean, and if he was a smarter man would have realized the answer was right in front of his face the entire time. All the dates he tried to plan were ones he would have taken with Bartholomew, a guy who enjoys the high life of fine red wines and eclectic tastes. Dean, thank the heavens, is nothing like Bartholomew. No, he wouldn't enjoy looking at high art and sailing on his father's yacht. That isn't Dean's style at all.

But then where in the world would he take Dean, a man who drinks whiskey from the bottle and likes plaid and cheeseburgers? It is so foreign to Cas, this lifestyle that doesn't revolve around yacht clubs and red wines. It is unfamiliar and frightening, but at the same time beautiful and refreshing. Cas doesn't have to think when he's with Dean; everything comes easily. He isn't constantly worrying about if he's saying the right thing, using all of the vocabulary his father drilled into his head as a child. With Dean he can shed the 'lawyer' act, the persona that Cas always tries to convince himself is his true person. He can wear jeans and a t-shirt and not feel underdressed, throw on a pair on Converse and not get strained looks from his father.

An idea popped into Cas's head, and suddenly he knew exactly where he's going to take Dean. His mind flashes with the details of a flyer he saw on the coffee shop bulletin board the other day. A classic car show is coming into town the weekend Cas is taking Dean out. How perfect would that be?

And that is how Cas ends up flitting around the city on a Friday morning, checking reservations at a diner downtown and making sure the car show has the classic Camero they promised. By 6:30 he thinks everything is going according to plan, except for one glaring detail. He looks at his rumpled shirt and jeans in the mirror and realizes he has no clue what to wear on a first date.

He tries to think back to what he wore on those dates with Bartholomew, but then remembers all he wore back then were sweater vests and tweed pants, hardly attire for a date like this one filled with classic cars and dive diners. However as he stares at his closet that is all he sees, a sea of suits and collard shirts.

Cas picks up the phone and starts to dial Jess's number, but stops right when he's about to call. One, Jessica has only known Dean for as long as Cas has and two, he saw her walking to the chemistry lab an hour ago to start on that experiment she'd been putting off. Crap, what now?  
But in that instant Cas remembers he's got the number of a Dean expert in his drawer. The next thing he knows his fingers are dialing an unfamiliar number and he finds himself jumping around the room in anticipation.

"Dammit, Charlie Bradbury, you better pick up or help me God-"

"Hellooooo!" a singsong voice answers from the other end.

"Charlie? I need your help," Cas says exhaustedly.

"With what? I thought you had your date with Dean tonight? Do you need a condom," she teases lightly.

"Wha-how did you know about that?" he asks, but quickly kicks himself for asking. Charlie is one of Dean's closest friends; of course he would have told her. "Nevermind. I need your expertise. What the hell do I wear?" he groans into the line, flinging himself back on his bed and cussing loudly when his head breaks the fall. "All I've got are stupid sweater vests and the suits I wear to class. I don't know how to not dress like a lawyer, so please help me?" Cas practically begs.

"Hm…well I guess I can give you some assistance. I'll be over in five."

Four minutes and fifty-five seconds later, a light knocking rings out at the door. Cas goes over and opens it to find Charlie's arms filled with jeans and t-shirts, only her eyes peeking out from behind the pile of attire.

"Charlie? Where in the world did you get this stuff?" he asks as she pushes past him and hauls the clothes over to his bed, dropping it with a huff of breath.

"Well…I totally didn't raid the lost and found laundry hamper and grab things that looked about your size if that's what you're implying," she says breathlessly, falling back onto the pile in a heap. Her hair billows around her and her eyes flutter shut. "Because I totally didn't do that!" she says with a yawn.

"Bradbury! I don't have time for your napping!" Cas snaps as he gently kicks her in the shin, causing her to jump up in surprise. "I'm meeting Dean at the car show in an hour and all I've got are suits to wear, so you've better got something better in that pile!"

Charlie pulls herself up from the bed and crosses her arms across her chest. "Hell yeah I've got something better in this pile! These are the long lost clothes of the Glass Hall laundry room; I'm sure something here must fit you and not make you look like a total douche."

"Geez thanks," Cas mutters as Charlie jumps up and starts sorting through the clothes, throwing a thousand different garments in his direction. A sea of plaid and denim hits his body like a tidal wave and he almost stumbles backwards from the force, clothes flying all around the room.

"How many clothes did you steal?" Cas asks incredulously.  
"It's not stealing! I'm going to return everything that doesn't fit you, and it's called a lost and found for a reason, Cas! They lost it, I found it. I'm just giving all of these clothes a new home, is that such a crime?"

"Actually…" Cas beings, but it cut off by Charlie shoving him into the bathroom door.

"You're running out of time, Novak! You better try on this stuff so you're not late for your date," she emphasizes, throwing him a wink.

He shuts the door in her face and throws on whatever he can find, Charlie checking out each outfit before telling him to try again. It all looks the same to Cas; with his father's tight leash he's never owned a pair of jeans of his own, always borrowing from Gadreel if need be. He knows nothing besides suits and ties, so this world full of things a lumberjack would wear is absolutely foreign. He tries combining plaid with stripes, but that gets a huge 'no' from Charlie. He throws on jeans and a sweater vest, only for Charlie to say "Cas, we're going for the sex god Dean Winchester would be lucky to screw in a car tonight look, not the I just got thrown into a locker look. Think, Novak!"

He huffs out a breath and once again throws off the clothes, staring at the pile on the ground. In the midst of it all he spots a flash of blue in the group, and reaches down to grab the garment. In his hands lays a Van Halen t-shirt, one of Dean's favorite bands. It's like destiny; he slides the fabric over his body and it fits perfectly, hanging on his figure like it's a shirt he bought himself. He follows it up by slinging on a pair of worn out jeans that falls slightly below his waistline, but at least stays up, and throws a plaid shirt over the ensemble. When he wanders out of the bathroom and finds Charlie's mouth gaping open, he finally feels a pool of warmth rise in his stomach.

"Well hello there, Castiel Novak," she whistles low. "I'm not going to lie; you grunge down quite nicely, sir."

"Really?" Cas replies. "I look good?"

Charlie just shakes her head in approval. "I'm not saying that if I were in to guys I'd be all over you, but if I were in to guys I'd so be all over you right now. You look great, Cas. Dean's going to love it."

He smiles lightly and turns towards the mirror, taking everything about his look in. It's different, but it works. He actually doesn't hate what he sees there like he expected. The clothes look foreign on his figure but even he has to admit…it's nice to not be clad in the lawyer getup for once.

"I deem you ready for the date, Novak. Now you go get that Winchester."

He looks over at Charlie and finds a smile on her face. "What are you so amused at, Bradbury?"

She turns to the ground and starts picking up the clothes, Cas following. "It's just good to see Dean out again, you know? After he got the news about the cancer being back he didn't really leave his apartment for a month. It was rough, but then he met you and everything shifted. Now he's got a little spring in his step. He's back to LARP-ing with our Dungeons and Dragons group in his free time. He's smiling again, Castiel. Do you know how long it's been since I've seen Dean crack a grin that isn't dripping with sarcasm? Not since before the diagnosis, that's for certain. I don't know what you awoke in him Cas, but I have to thank you for it. You make him happy and that's all I've wanted for that Winchester. He's stubborn and cocky and sometimes straight up rude, but he's the closest thing I've got to family. So..thank you."

Cas doesn't know how to respond. He couldn't get himself to believe that he could have helped anyone that much. What is he, after all? He's a pre-law major with the emotional range of a fish; the feelings he has for Dean are completely foreign, new. How could he have changed Dean? Charlie must be wrong. It was probably something Sam said that got Dean out of his funk, or maybe even Charlie herself. But not Cas, no. It couldn't have been Cas.

But he says none of this, keeping it hidden in his thoughts because he's already running late and doesn't have time to argue with Charlie. He just throws her a quick "thanks" and pulls on his shoes, double checking himself in the mirror for any blemish. When he finds none he follows Charlie out the door and to the main entrance.

"Do you need help back to the dorm with all of that?" Cas asks as a shirt falls to the floor at her feet.

"Nah, I'll be fine. You just go and have fun," Charlie says as he starts walking away.

Cas waves goodbye at her and starts his way down the street, but turns around quickly when he realizes he never asked her the one question in his mind.

"Charlie!" he calls at her retreating figure, chasing her down the sidewalk.

"What, Cas?" Charlie asks exhaustedly. "I've got a bit of a load here if you haven't noticed…"

"I'm sorry," he apologizes quickly, "but…stupid question for you. Do you think Dean…likes me?" Cas gets out through clenched teeth. He hates asking the question and sounding like a little schoolboy.

Charlie just shakes her head and walks away. "Is the sky blue?" she calls. Charlie rounds the corner and out of sight, only a fallen shirt left behind.

* * *

The car show is already buzzing with activity when Cas walks up to the entrance, people admiring the cars from near and far. Two children knock into his knees as they play a game of tag and quickly apologize before running off into the crowd, turning the group into human bumper cars. People from all walks of life wander about the park, some covered in tattoos and bandanas while others walk around in fine suits and wads of cash in their pockets, ready to buy. Music blares loudly from the speakers and white tents are pitched around the space, the aroma of grease filling the air. It is absolutely perfect for a date with Dean, and Cas can't help but pat himself on the back at the idea.

He quickly checks his phone for the time. 7:15 exactly, the time he told Dean to meet him here. He looks around into the crowd but does not see anyone he knows, and he automatically starts to worry. Did he write the address down wrong? Did he get the wrong time? What if he's already here and Cas can't find him? _What even, Novak. Calm yourself! He's probably just running a bit late, that's all. Nothing at all to worry about._

Five minutes pass and Dean does not show. Cas decides that he'll buy their tickets and wander about, so he throws a twenty over the counter and grabs two green wristbands, tying one around his forearm while storing the other in his pocket. He checks his phone again and finds no new texts, so he slings it out and sends a quick one to Dean.

 **Today 7:20 PM**  
                                                                                                                           Hey, are you almost here?

He puts it back in his pocket and tries to calm his rising anxiety by searching the lot. His eyes scan the vehicles and takes in the different time periods they hail from, almost like he's looking at physical history before his eyes. Cas walks into the center of the group and finds the flaming orange Camero he was promised, smiling at the note tacked to the window. He can see Dean's face when he picks up that letter and reads what it says, the smile that will fly across his face when he leans that Cas convinced the owner to let Dean take it out for a spin around the roads.

Cas feels a vibration in his pocket and pulls out the phone excitedly, hoping it's a text from Dean. However his excitement falls when he realizes it is only an email from his professor. He checks the time. 7:47 PM. Dean is now a half an hour late. What is going on?

 **Today 7:50 PM**  
                                                                                                                                     Where are you?

_He's coming. He's is probably just stuck in traffic, that's all! Besides, I told him to bring the Impala. He wouldn't leave me hanging. It's not Dean._

That thought stays in his head until 8:10 PM, then slowly starts to fade as 8:15 comes and flies by. It's now 8:20 and now Cas is worried. _What is something happened on the way here? What if Dean is crashed? Or what if he just decided to stand you up?_

Cas cringes as the words he doesn't want to think about fly into his head. No, Dean would not stand Cas up. Would he?

8:40. 8:49. 9:05. 9:15. Two hours and no sign of Dean anywhere. Cas leans against the Camero and checks his phone every two seconds. No text, no calls, no indication of anything from Dean. He takes a deep breath and snatches the note off the car angrily, throwing it crumbled to the ground.

 _I've been stood up_ , Cas thinks to himself, hating how bitter the words sound in his thoughts. _Figures. I'm not good enough for a guy like Dean Winchester. I'm such an idiot!_

He feels tears springing to his eyes, but Cas will not cry. Not here in front of everybody, not at his dorm either. Crying is a weakness; his father taught him that many years ago. Don't let people see the hurt. That's the number one rule of the Novak family.

Instead, he does what Novaks do best. He gets angry. Who does Dean think he is to stand Cas up? It's not only rude, but it's downright horrid. All of the signs pointed to Dean liking Cas as more than just a friend. Why lead him on if it isn't going anywhere? He needs an explanation. He deserves an explanation.

Cas rips off the wristband from his arm and shoves it in the trash, throwing Dean's unused one in with it. He walks out of the park and makes his way towards the university, scowling at anyone who passes by. His blood is rising, boiling under the surface. All of the Novak fire he inherited from Lucifer flares to life in his veins and Cas is full of pure, flaming anger. It makes him want to run to Dean's apartment, yell until he talks with Cas. _I will not be stood up. Not today, Dean Winchester._

He finds himself running through the streets, his feet pounding against the pavement. His breath is hot and fast in his chest and he feels the adrenaline rising in his system, causing him to sprint faster towards that brick building he knows well by now.

When he reaches Dean's apartment building he shoves past two guys leaning against the door, ignoring their annoyed calls from behind. He's on a one track mission as he stomps up the stairs and pushes through the hallway, people parting in his path. And when he approaches door 1987 he starts pounding with all of his might, the avenging angel unrestrained.

"DEAN! DEAN WINCHESTER YOU BETTER OPEN UP!" Cas yells loudly, people stopping to stare at him. "DAMMIT DEAN IF YOU DON'T OPEN I WILL-"

The door flies open and Cas tumbles inside, falling head over heels into the space. He looks up and finds an agitated Sam standing over him, his eyes sunken with tiredness.

"Cas, what the hell do you want?" Sam asks tiredly, rubbing a hand over his face. "I don't have time for this."

Cas laughs harshly. "Why don't you ask your brother? He's the one who stood me up tonight. I've got some words for him." Cas gets up from the ground and starts throwing open doors. "Where is he huh? DEAN…DEAN!"

"WILL YOU PLEASE SHUT THE HELL UP?!" Sam screams from across the room, grabbing Cas from behind to restrain him.

"I will if you tell me where the hell your brother is!" Cas yells back.

"Dean's not here," Sam says tiredly, turning Cas around so that he's staring Dean right in the face. The look he sees there immediately quenches the fire in Cas, replacing the avenging angel with the angel of worry.

"Then…where is he?" Cas asks tentatively.

Sam averts his gaze and huffs out a breath. "Cas, Dean's is not here because he's in the hospital."


	8. All I've Ever Needed

  
Everything is dark. Dean looks around and sees nothing, just black everywhere he turns. The panic in his body starts to rise and he automatically wants to bolt, but where? He is literally in a black hole, a place so dark that he can’t even see his hand when he waves it around in front of his face. Where is he?  
  
In a nervous act Dean runs a hand over his head but stops. The smoothness he is used to has been replaced with the gelled locks from before he shaved his head, and when he pulls away nothing comes out. He then notices that he feels amazing. No nausea, no exhausted slumping from a long day. It feels like he could run a marathon which only means one thing. _Oh dear God above, is he dead?_  
  
Light explodes throughout the space, images flying in front of his face. The first image hits him fast and hard, a film reel of him holding a newborn baby Sam in his arms. He can hear his mother’s soothing voice in the background. _Be careful, Dean. He’s fragile._  
  
The next one is a little bit later, back when Dean had a bowl cut and Sam was just learning how to walk. His father is standing at one end of the room and is gesturing for baby Sam to make his way over, but of course Sam just sits on the ground and stares blankly. When Dean walks into the room with a bowl of cereal in hand though, he watches as his brother’s face lights up with a smile. Next thing he knows Sam is pushing himself off the ground and waddling his way over to Dean. John’s voice is booming throughout the room. _Mary! You’ve got to see this!_  
  
“What the hell…” Dean whispers to himself as another film reel pops up before his eyes, this one of his entire family fruitlessly trying to take a group photo on their ancient camera.  
  
“Not hell. Quite far from it, actually.”  
  
A man walks in from behind the projections and crosses his arms over his chest, flicking his hand to make the film clips freeze. He’s short and skinny, his hair a mess of brown curls that is starting to fall down into his eyes. He wears a bath robe and pajama pants, and is so familiar that Dean has to take a step back.  
  
“…Chuck?” he says incredulously. “Are…you God or somethin’ man? Am I dead?’  
  
Chuck Shurley, writer of bad science fiction novels and possibly a divine being, laughs lightly. “Oh don’t I wish, but no. I’m not God and you’re not dead, Dean. This is all in your subconscious. You’re dreaming. A very deep dream brought on by the fact that you’re in a coma right now, but a dream nonetheless.”  
  
He can’t help himself; Dean sighs loudly with relief. Sure, being in a coma is horrible but at least he’s not six feet under. He can at least come out of this state…he hopes.  
  
“Then why all the nostalgia? Why the family friendly flashbacks? Why am I remembering this stuff?”  
  
“It must be your brain’s way of coping with the situation. Don’t you remember? You’ve read articles on this stuff before, Dean. It is said that some coma patients can remember what they dreamt about while in their stupor, and oftentimes they recall bright lights or memories, almost as if their lives are flashing before their eyes. It’s more common in patients that are close to death.”  
  
Dean leans back on his heels and tries to rack his brain. Yes, he does remember reading that now, but all it does is set a new panic alarm blaring throughout his body.  
  
“Am I close to death then?” Dean asks, his voice breaking a bit. “Is this it? Am I dying?”  
  
“Not if you fight back, Dean. Do you remember how you got here in the first place?” Chuck asks with a grim stare.  
  
He rocks back and forth, trying his best to think of what happened before the darkness. All he can recall is picking up flowers at the local gardening store but nothing afterwards. What happened?  
  
“Not really,” he admits.  
  
“Fine. Then let’s take a look, shall we?” Chuck walks forward puts two fingers to Dean’s forehead.  
  
And then everything explodes. He remembers. Oh yes, he remembers everything. He was getting flowers at the boutique for his date when he felt a pain in his back, but pushed it off as nothing. Throughout the day it got worse and worse, Sam urging Dean to go to the doctor’s and get it checked out. Of course he ignored his brother; he was fine after all. But then he remembers the blackness encroaching on his vision, that darkness seeping in. He barely had time to make it to the couch before he slid to the ground violently and passed out, hitting his head on the coffee table. The last thought he can recall is him thinking ‘Holy crap, that’s a lot of blood’ and ‘Of course I’ll die from a major head injury instead of the cancer. Typical.’  
  
Dean reels back when Chuck releases his touch, rubbing his head to knock out the pain left behind. “So I’m in the hospital, I’m in a coma, all because I hit my head on a coffee table? Really? Because that’s a shitty way to die, Chuck.”  
  
“No Dean, you’re not dying. Not if you push past this and wake up.”  
  
“But how do I get back? I can’t just…y’know…pop back into consciousness! Help me, Chuck! Please?”  
  
Chuck laughs to himself and flicks his hand, the film reel playing once again. “Dean, I am you. I’m a figment of your imagination, remember? You have two choices here. You can stay and watch this film reel, get your whole life wrapped up in a pretty package before you ultimately fade into whatever is after this life, or you can be a Winchester and fight it. All you have to do is wake up, Dean. Wake up…”

Dean awakens with a gasping breath, jumping up in his bed. Sirens and buzzes and beeping surrounds him on all sides and for a minute he has no clue where he is. The only thing that is concrete in his mind is how much his body aches, and he automatically wants to slump back into whatever dream world he came from. It isn’t until three nurses come running in that he realizes he’s in the hospital, remembers what dream Chuck told him. He fought; he survived, and he did it all by himself. It’s enough to make him smile despite the pain. For the first time in a long time, Dean feels truly alive.  
  
The first nurse, Ruby according to her name tag, is at his side in an instant. She flurries around as he checks vitals and the thousands of tubes attached to Dean’s body, not saying a word as she concentrates. Another nurse, a man with dark skin and harsh eyes who doesn’t wear a name tag, calls out numbers and phrases Dean has never heard of. But the one nurse who catches Dean’s attention the most is the woman standing in front of him, a woman he remembers from long ago. A past life, one that was easier, more simple than the one he leads now. One that was filled with white picket fences and apple pies every night, one where he had a home instead of a dorm apartment, a lawn to mow instead of a rotting carpeted hallway.  
  
“Dean?” she asks quietly, her gentle nature looking completely out of place next to the others. “Do you know where you are? Do you remember anything that happened?” She trails off, her eyes flying to the foot of the bed instead of his face. “Do…you remember me?”  
  
He blinks and shakes his head, trying to gain his surroundings. “…Lisa?” he asks hoarsely, his throat dry and rough. “What are…what are you doing here?” he asks groggily, his words coming out slurred under the influence of the drugs. All the while the other nurses whirl around him like a tornado of activity, Dean only slightly aware of the pressure cup on his arm and the needle be stuck into his vein.  
  
“I work here, remember? That’s how we met after all. C’mon, you haven’t forgotten about me completely, have you?”  
  
Dean blushes. The thought of his relationship with Lisa still makes his stomach flutter with the memories, nostalgia ripping through his system when he looks into those familiar eyes.  
  
“I know you’re probably really disoriented right now so I won’t grill you with the hard questions, Dean. But I do need to know…do you have any idea what happened to you?”  
  
He sighs out a breath of relief. This question he can answer easily. “I fell, right? Hit my head on a table or somethin’. That’s all I remember, really.”  
  
“It’s more complicated than that,” Lisa says, all of the brightness from her voice fading.  
  
“Complicated?” Dean repeats back. The other nurses have left and now it is only him and Lisa in the room. He braces himself against the bed for the news.  
  
“Yes, complicated. The reason you fainted and fell into that table in the first place was not just one of your usual blackouts. I don’t know how to say this, but the cancer is getting more aggressive, Dean.”  
  
He can feel his heart sink in his chest and he automatically clutches the sheets for support. “What?” he whispers weakly.  
  
Lisa walks over to Dean’s side and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, grabbing one of his hands in hers. The gesture is so familiar it almost makes Dean want to pull her close, wrap her in his arms like he used to, but something stops him. It’s almost as if his mind is throwing up red flags, a huge warning sign flashing in his head screeching DANGER ZONE. He automatically remembers why it didn’t work out with Lisa and drops her hand, choosing to slide to the other side of the bed instead.  
  
She automatically catches on and steps back from the bedside, ruffling her hair nervously. “I’m sorry I don’t have better news, Dean. We worry that the cancer will spread to your brain if we don’t up your treatment. That means more frequent chemotherapy visits and your doctor wants to try radiation. If that doesn’t work we will be in a last ditch effort stage and will perform a bone marrow transplant, but finding someone who is compatible is oftentimes difficult. A sibling or parent is usually the best match,” she explains in one breath, leaning back on her heels once all of the information is out in the open.  
  
Dean doesn’t know what to do, so he stares blankly back at the woman in front of him. He opens his mouth, tries to think of something to retort with, but finds nothing to say. How do you respond to news like that?  
  
Finally, after a few minutes of tense silence, Dean gets out words. “So…how are my odds looking now?”  
  
Lisa’s expression says it all, her eyes downcast and her face grim. “It’s too early to say now. Once we start the intensified treatment we will know more. I still have high hopes for you, Dean. You’ve pulled through this before and you will do it again.”  
  
Dean just stays quiet, leaning back against the pillows. “Whatever you say, Lisa. Can I go now?” he asks irritably.  
  
She glance back at him with surprise on her face. “Go? Dean, you hit your head ridiculously hard. You don’t have a concussion but we still want to monitor you for a few days. You’re not going anywhere, Winchester. Not for a week at least.”  
  
He jumps up in his bed in alarm. “A week? What do they want with me for a week? That’s ridiculous! I’ve got plans, important plans!”  
  
Lisa laughs lightly and walks over to the door. “You need rest, Dean, and we also need to run extensive tests to figure out how to proceed with your treatment. I’m sorry, but your plans will have to wait. What are you missing that is so important anyway?”  
  
Dean fidgets with his hands and glances outside the window, imagining the abandoned flowers in his apartment. “Nothing,” he replies weakly. “I…just had a date.”

* * *

When you’re in the hospital and no visitors are allowed, time goes by at a snail’s pace. For those first two days when Dean is still under extreme moderation and is not allowed to see anyone from the outside world, he thinks the boredom will end him. All he can do is flip through the five stations the hospital covered, all the shows overly dramatic soap operas half of the time. The only one that he can bear is a little show called Dr. Sexy M.D., and that is only because the doctor is quite the looker.  
  
However, after 72 hours had passed with no complications, Lisa finally brands him ready for visitors. She helps him get up from his bed and assists in washing the filth that must be accumulating on his body from days without a shower, and even allows him to meet Sam and Charlie down at the cafeteria for lunch. When his brother sees him from across the room, he’s sure Sam is going to jump tables in an attempt to reach Dean; the look on his face is one Dean’s experienced many times before when he’s been in the hospital. He calls it Sam’s ‘looking at a walking miracle’ expression.  
  
When Sam approaches Dean he does not hesitate to throw his arms around him, his brother’s hug tight and familiar around his body. In that moment, Dean doesn’t care who sees. The embrace is too much and he automatically collapses into his brother, holding on to his tall frame for dear life. All of the news that has hit him in the past three days crashes down and Dean suddenly realizes his cheeks are wet with months of built up tears, heaving sobs leaving his body.  
  
“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” Dean blubbers incoherently into his brother’s shoulder, Sam automatically hauling Dean up to his feet.  
  
“Shh, it’s going to be okay,” his brother whispers back, leading Dean out of the cafeteria and away from the prying eyes of the crowd.  
  
They find an empty sitting room a few paces away from the cafeteria and Sam lays Dean down into one of the floral recliners. He takes a seat next to Dean and automatically falls into their usual routine when one of them breaks down; he grabs Dean’s shoulder and pulls him into an awkward side hug. It’s like they’re children again. Dean always used to comfort Sam when he got into a fight with their father and they always fell into the same embrace, one brother’s head rested on the other’s shoulder.  
  
“It’s spreading, Sam! I’m going to die!”  
  
“Dean, you’re not going to die,” Sam says calmly. “We can fix this, I’m sure of it. You’ll pull through like always. You are going to survive this. We’ll get you on more chemo, we’ll start radiation, and you can have as much of my bone marrow as needed until you’re better.”  
  
“It’s not the easy, Sam!” Dean cries out. “You didn’t see Lisa’s face when she told me the news-“  
  
“Lisa? Lisa works here?” Sam interrupts, leaning back so he can look Dean in the eye.  
  
Dean huffs out a laugh through the tears. “Out of everything that’s going on right now you’re asking about Lisa?”  
  
Sam grins back. “Sorry,” he apologizes quickly. “I just know you two didn’t end on the best of terms. Continue.”  
  
“Well, you didn’t see her face, Sammy. It was like looking into an abyss. She has to know I ain’t got that long left if she looked like that. I’m a goner, Sammy. Better start writing my obituary now.”  
  
“Will you calm down?” Sam huffs out a breath, pushing Dean out of his embrace. “You don’t know anything yet. We will start the new treatments and who knows? Maybe things will get better. You’re such a pessimist, you know that? Would it kill ya to be a little positive for once in your life?”  
  
Dean blanches back at his brother, the tears from earlier now just dry streaks on his cheeks. “Did you really just say ‘would it kill ya’ to me? Word choice, Sam. Word choice!”  
  
“Sorry, sorry!” Sam apologizes again. “It’s just…you do have quite a dark outlook on life. You could at least try to be positive…?” he asks like a question.  
  
He huffs out a harsh breath. “You’re not going to let me die in peace, are ya?”   
Sam leans forward and looks into Dean’s eyes, his expression serious. “I’m not going to let you die, period.”  
  
He catches his brother’s gaze and doesn’t let go, trying to see what Sam sees. His brother is so full of never-ending hope, always the positive one. Where does he find the strength to be the pillar Dean needs?  
  
Dean doesn’t get to respond though before the brothers are interrupted by a cough from the doorway. He looks up and finds a pair of familiar blue eyes staring back at him, Cas’s posture timid and awkward as he stands in the doorway.  
  
“He thought you stood him up,” Sam whispers in Dean’s ear, “but when he found out about what happened to you he came straight to the hospital. He’s practically be holding vigil for three days straight.”  
  
Sam pats Dean quickly on the shoulder before leaving him alone with Cas and the silence reverberating between them. He watches his brother exit and then turns his attention to Cas; the man is awkwardly lounging in the doorway and is avoiding Dean’s gaze.  
  
“Um, do you want to come in?” Dean asks quietly.  
  
Cas finally looks up into Dean’s eyes and steps into the room, taking Sam’s place in the chair next to Dean. He curls into himself, almost as if he’s trying to disappear.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Cas breathes out, his body collapsing against the chair.  
  
Dean stares at Cas with confused eyes. “What? Why?”  
  
“For…doubting you. I thought you stood me up for our date and I was furious; I shouldn’t have automatically jumped to that conclusion. I should have known you’d never do that, ever.”  
  
“Cas…” Dean trails off, not knowing what to say. The fact that Cas entertained the idea of being stood up for a second makes Dean slightly irked. He would never do that, especially not to a guy like Cas. How could he think that?  
  
“I think it’s clear that I don’t think that highly of myself,” Cas continues. “When you didn’t show I automatically thought it was something I did. I probably said something wrong, pissed you off. I  should have considered that you were hurt, or were too sick, or simply got lost, but no. I was selfish, Dean, and for that I’m terribly sorry. Can I make it up to you?”  
  
Dean stares back at Cas and takes in his figure. Cas looks so small in that chair, like a chastised puppy. Cas, a man who usually looks like a superhero, now looks like a little boy who needs saving. It makes Dean’s heart ache.  
  
“You did nothing wrong,” Dean replies. “I would have probably done the same thing. But if you really want to make it up to me, you can still take me on that date when I’m out of here. Capishe?  
  
Cas’s whole being brightens. He sits up in his chair and looks at Dean with a new excitement in his eyes. “Really? You still want to go out with me?”  
  
“Dude, nothin’ has changed between us other than the fact that I’m dyin’ faster than I thought. If anything that’s a sign from the universe that I should be livin’ life to the fullest, and I think that includes going out with you. They’re gonna discharge me in a few days and that car show is still in town. You up for it?”  
  
Cas smiles brightly. “I’ll set everything up. You’ve got yourself a date, Winchester.”  
  
A nurse walks into the room at that moment and pointedly throws Dean a glare. He recognizes her as the one who took his vitals a few days ago, and she clearly isn’t happy.  
  
“Who gave you permission to leave your room?” she asks a bit harshly.  
  
Dean crosses his arms and stares at the woman back. “Lisa said I could leave for a little bit, get some fresh air. What’s it to ya, Ruby?”  
  
“Don’t sass me, Dean Winchester,” she replies with her nose turned to the ceiling. “It’s time for you to get back in your room. You’re not out of the woods yet and the doctor wants to check up on you. And by the way, he isn’t allowed.” She nods her head in Cas’s direction before she turns on her heel and gestures for Dean to follow.  
  
With one last look at Cas, Dean hauls himself out of the chair and exits the room. “Don’t forget that you owe me a date, Novak!” he calls.  
  
“I won’t, Winchester!”  



	9. Beautiful Times

The next few days move painfully slow for Castiel. He splits his time between class and Dean's bedside, making sure Dean is comfortable and content. Dean wasn't kidding when he said the television selection at the hospital was, in his words, 'absolute bullshit'. The only thing on besides the news is a drama called Doctor Sexy that Dean throws on one day, a show that Dean claims he hates but spends the entire time muttering about the characters by name, filling Cas in on what happened in the episode before during commercial breaks with a smile on his face.

When they aren't lounging around watching badly written soap operas though, they bide their time talking with one of the nurses, Lisa. From the minute Cas met her he automatically knew they were going to get along. She's kind, funny, and automatically laughed at his "Daisy Buchanan thinks you're a beautiful fool" shirt he wore the first day he met her. However, as the week goes by Cas can't help but notice the way her and Dean act together, almost as if they were former lovers. They hold stares until one awkwardly looks away; their hands brush and more than once Cas has caught Lisa holding on to Dean's fingers longer than necessary.

It all comes to a head on a Wednesday afternoon. Cas, Lisa, and Dean are playing a game of cards when Lisa throws down an extremely good hand and wins the entire game. Dean congratulates her and throws his hand up for a hive five, but Lisa entwines their fingers together and throws him a loving smile. The entire moment makes Cas's stomach twist.

"Oh um," Lisa says awkwardly, breaking the bond between the two, "I have…other patients I need to see. I'll be back later, okay boys?"

"Don't be too long; I'm gonna beat ya next time!" Dean calls as she shuffles out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Dean laughs lowly and starts grabbing the cards off the table, but Cas's hand shoots forward and lands on Dean's.

"Is…there something I should know about you and Lisa?" Cas asks. His gaze does not leave Dean's and he feels tension spring to Dean's body, his whole stance automatically stilling.

"Wha-what are you talkin' about?" Dean stammers. He removes his palm from under Cas's and avoids all eye contact, preferring to stare at the deck of cards in his hand instead of at Cas.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Dean. You and Lisa? You guys act like this past week is not the first time you've met. Is there a history between you two?"

Dean turns cold and moves away from Cas on the bed. "It's nothing."

"Really? Because that did not look like nothing, Dean. You…can tell me, y'know. I won't be mad."

"Cas…can you let it go?" Dean mutters under his breath. "It was a long time ago; it means nothing now."

"But there was something between you two, wasn't there?" Cas asks a bit harshly. He jumps up from the bed and starts pacing the room anxiously, a habit he's tried to kick for years but never can seem to. "Were you lovers, Dean?"

"Cas-"

"Is that who I'm up against?"

"I don't own you nothin'-" Dean tries to respond, but Cas isn't having it.

"I can't compare to her Dean. Do you want her instead?"

"Okay, fine!" Dean exclaims, falling back against his bed. "Do you want to know? Then fine; tell me about Bartholomew first."

Cas freezes. The name slaps him in the face and makes his stumble back. Never in a thousand years he'd thought that name would be coming out of the mouth of Dean Winchester. How did he find out?"

"Yeah Cas, I know about your little boyfriend from freshman year. So who is he, huh? Because if you're not gonna tell me about him, then I have no problems not telling you about Lisa," Dean spits out harshly, crossing his arms over his chest.

His whole body falls still, the room freezing in place. A thousand memories fly through his head at the name and Cas is taken to a different place, a different time. A face that has haunted him for years stares back, eyes full with vicious teasing and hidden pain. Bartholomew, a man who is responsible for a thousand different waves of hurt in Castiel's life suddenly seems extremely prominent in the room, and Cas has to remind himself to breathe.

"Who told you?" Cas gets out uneasily, his voice catching in this throat.

"Jess, but it wasn't on purpose…" Dean trails off, and Cas looks over to find Dean staring at the sheets, his hands fiddling with the fabric. The fire that was in his being earlier has seemed to fade a bit.

Cas sighs heavily and runs a hand over his face. Of course he always planned on telling Dean, but not like this; never like this.

"Listen…I'm sorry I blew up at you. If you don't want to talk about it…"  
"No, you deserve to know," Cas interrupts, pulling one of the plastic hospital chairs over to Dean's beside. He takes a seat and breathes heavily, looking up into Dean's concerned gaze. "If you and me…we…are going to move forward you have to know."

Dean waits patiently for Cas to start, his stare unwavering and his face open.

Cas braces himself and then begins. "Yes, Bartholomew Graceland is an ex-boyfriend of mine. I met him at the coffee shop freshman year of college. I was the new barista, he was the cute senior psychology major that came into the shop everyday. He'd order his cappuccino, start up a conversation with me, and then before I knew it we were an item. And I was happy, Dean. At the time, Bartholomew was the only constant in my life. My father was in and out, my mother would not get in contact with me, and my brothers were halfway across the country. He was my anchor in a sea of uncertainty.

"But that was the problem; he was my only anchor, the person I turned to for everything. He was my first everything. First kiss, first time, first boyfriend, first experience into this world of bisexuality that I just discovered. I became codependent on him, and soon enough he realized just how much I was reliant on his existence. That's when things got…complicated."

Cas stops for a minute, trying to brace himself for what he's about to tell Dean next. Only Jess knows about his true relationship with Bartholomew, how it spun out of control so quickly and violently that it left Cas scarred for life.

"What do you mean by complicated?" Dean practically whispers, almost as if he knows what's going to come next.

"By complicated…I mean abusive," Cas gets out, cringing into himself. "I'd ask him to do things for me because I was young, naive, and didn't know how to do anything for myself. And he'd help me out, but would in return would use me as his human punching bag. I took the pain, the abuse because I thought it was normal. How completely messed up is that?" Cas gets out in one rush of breath.

"Cas…" Dean starts, but Cas stops him.

"Please, let me finish. So Bartholomew would assist me in my college career, got me ahead in the law world because he knew the right people, but then would call me into his room and beat the living crap out of me. He called it 'repayment' and I went along with it, hid the bruises behind long sleeved shirts and makeup I stole from Jess's room.

"This went on for a good year before Jess finally caught on to what was happening behind closed doors. Naturally she confronted me about it, but I was too deep under his control. I told Jess to go away, that I would handle it, but of course I never did. A month later a got a call from the county jail saying that Bartholomew had been caught abusing a bartender downtown and had been arrested. I was his one call, and he begged me to come bail him out. I told him to piss off and left him there to rot. I haven't seen him since."

The air in the room goes silent, the only noise the beeping of the machines and the sound of loud footsteps outside the door. A light knocking interrupts them and the boys turn to find Charlie positioned outside the door, a plastic grocery bag full of food in her hand. However she quickly realizes the tension and mouths 'I'll be back in a little bit' before disappearing down the hall once again.

"Damn, Cas…" Dean trails off, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know what to say to that."

"There's nothing you can say, Dean. I loved him, I'll admit it. I loved him even though it made no sense, even though he made me feel weak and powerless. It took me a long time to get over him, to realize the abuse was not beautiful or normal. It took me a long time to find myself again."  
Cas crosses his arms and looks up into Dean's gaze, seeing the clear pity and sadness there.

"I swear, Cas, if he ever gets near you again I'll end him. Nobody deserves to go what you went through. If that son of a bitch-"

"You're gonna have to beat me to it," Cas says harshly, darkly. "He ruined me. If he shows his face anywhere near me again I will be ready. I'll fight back. I'm my own anchor now."

Dean cocks his head to the side and stares back at Cas with a smile. "Did you just quote Teen Wolf?"

Just like that Cas's dark mood evaporates into thin air, the two boys breaking into a banter about a show about teen wolves, favorite characters, and the unfair death of one certain huntress. They go on like this for hours, Dean easily making Cas forget about past. And when Charlie shows up once more and has two seasons of Game of Thrones with her, the three fall into the best afternoon Cas can remember.

The sun sets in the sky and the next thing Cas knows Hael is at the door, pushing Charlie and him out because visiting hours are over. The two bid their goodbyes to Dean and walk down the hallway in comfortable silence until they reach the main doors.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" Charlie asks brightly.

Cas stops in his tracks and spins on the woman, staring down at her amused smile.

"What?!" he exclaims.

"Whoa there, no need to get all testy on me Novak! I just…noticed the way you look at him. It's like your looking into the sun or something."

He blushes profusely and pushes out the door. "You're wrong, Bradbury! I don't love him."

He hears her voice fade away as he leaves.

"No, Novak. I don't think I am…"

* * *

After Dean is released from the hospital, Cas wastes no time in setting up a new date for the two of them. They miss the classic car show but Cas makes up for it with a date to local drive in, spending their night lounging on top of the Impala while they enjoy Casablanca. Cas tries to pay attention to the movie, it is one of his favorites after all, but Dean's hand keeps fidgeting next to his and distracts him. About halfway through Cas just sighs lightly, reaches between the two of them and gently entwines their fingers together, his warm body bringing heat to Dean's cold one. He glances over to the side and finds Dean smiling to himself, and Cas's heart soars. They stay like that long after the movie is over and the other viewers have left, the two of them content with just laying around, holding hands, enjoying one another's company. And when the night is over and Dean drops Cas back at his apartment, the two part without a kiss between them.

The next few months slide by easily for the two. Cas and Dean fall into an easy relationship with one another, one that is filled with late night talks, chaste kisses under moonlit streets, and many, many dates to the drive in. They continue on with the weekly photography lessons and Dean lies to Cas on a constant basis, saying that his photos are improving even though in Cas's opinion they are only getting worse. Even though the camera has easily become his worst enemy, Cas enjoys the projects Dean throws out to the class, loves the quality time he gets with Dean. The final project is a looming distraction in front of Cas though. They are supposed to photograph the thing they love most in the world, but what is that to Cas? He still doesn't have an answer.

The only blemish on their blooming relationship is Dean's ever worsening disease, the cancer growing stronger by the week. Dean tries to ignore it, to push past the pain and convince Cas that everything is okay, but he sees through Dean's game. It's the little things that worry Cas, like how Dean can't sit down without wincing and can't walk more than a few blocks without getting woozy and tired. The chemotherapy is taking a toll on Dean more than before, the drug now causing him to vomit after each treatment. Cas can't stand to see Dean this way, wishes more than anything that he could absorb the hurt even for a day, an hour, a second, but of course he cannot.

And if that is not enough, Dean is not the only one whose condition is falling apart. Ellen and Dean often have their treatments together and the Harvelle is slowly deteriorating. Cas first notices it when Ellen comes in with a blonde wig on her head, saying it reminds her of Jo. As the weeks pass by she slowly comes into the treatment center worse than before. At first it's only her walking a bit slower, but eventually it's her whole being. It's a Friday in October when she comes with with a bitter smile on her face and breaks the news that the cancer has spread to her bones and that she is officially at stage four with a thirty percent survival rate. Jo sits beside her like a pillar, never moving, never showing any emotion, even though Cas knows she's breaking apart inside.

Before Cas knows it November rolls around with promises of the approaching winter. The air holds a bit of a chill when he walks outside in the morning and the campus is abuzz with the upcoming Thanksgiving vacation, everyone grateful for a break. However, unlike the others, Cas dreads the holiday with a passion. It isn't that he doesn't like eating turkey and watching the football games with his brothers; it's the fact that once again he'll have to deal with his father, the man who will probably spend the entire week Cas is home talking about the future of the firm, how Cas needs to keep his grades up, how Cas messed up this time around. He's already trying to find ways to avoid his father as much as possible.

But how does one avoid someone like Lucifer Novak, a man who can find you anywhere? He racks his thoughts for any ideas, any buffer that will distract his father from Cas. But how could he avoid his father?

A lightbulb pops on inside his thoughts. Cas is sitting across from a very tired Dean during one of his chemotherapy treatments when the idea comes into his head. Why not bring Dean along? God knows that Winchester needs a vacation, and it only seems fair that Dean meet his brothers now that Cas has spend so much time around Dean's.

"Hey, Dean, you awake?" Cas whispers lightly, the mood in the room tranquil.

"Huh?" Dean grumbles as he tosses his head, his eyes slowly opening. "Y'say somethin' Cas?" Dean slurs his words, the exhaustion overtaking his body.

"What are you doing for Thanksgiving?" Cas asks.

"Thanksgiving?" Dean replies quietly. "Nothin'. Sam and I usually buy a frozen turkey and sit around our apartment all day watching old Western movies, but he's meeting Jess's family this year. And they are saying they're not a couple? Yeah, right."

Cas can't help but laugh. "Really? They still haven't admitted to liking each other? Jess practically has hearts in her eyes everytime she sees him. It's sickening, Dean! She sighs and bats her eyelashes and everything!"

He laughs low and hearty. "Dude, I know! Sam is exactly the same. He gets this faraway look in his eyes whenever he's around her and still won't admit to being totally in love with her! If they don't get together soon I'll shove them in a room until they work it out."

Cas laughs back, leaning back in his seat. "Then you're free to come with me to Chicago then? I could really use a distraction from my family. My father is…a bit of a difficult man to get along with."

"Damn Cas, taking your boyfriend home to meet the family already? Sure we aren't moving a bit fast?" he teases lightly.

"Shut it, Winchester. Are you in or not?"

Dean purses his lips and throws on a perusing grin. "Well if you insist…"

"Really?" Cas interrupts. "You're coming with me to Chicago? You're going to witness a Novak Thanksgiving filled with lots of arguing and maybe a few fist fights?"

He just throws his head back and laughs. "When do we leave?"

* * *

A week later Cas finds himself shoved up next to Dean and a loud snoring businessman on a very cramped plane to Chicago, trying his best to lean away from the drool pouring out of his seat partner's mouth. The four hour ride is almost unbearable with the businessman coughing on Cas every two seconds, and Dean just laughs at his boyfriend's misfortune while he watches some old Western movie on his phone. When the plane touches down in the good ol' O'hare Airport, Cas practically runs towards baggage claim to get away from the experience.

Of course since things simply cannot go Cas's way; Dean's luggage gets lost back in California. After a two hour long argument and an agreement to drop off the lost luggage at Cas's apartment the next day, the two boys call a cab and make the trek down to the city, the sunset glowing behind them as the famous skyline comes into view. Cas hasn't been home in so long that he is awestruck by what he sees, his attention focused on the gleaming buildings and the lights that are slowly flickering on with the oncoming dusk. Dean is equally enamored, the two remaining silent as they both take in the beauty of the city.

Too soon for Cas's taste, the cab driver pulls up in front of the gleaming Trump Tower building. Cas looks over to read Dean's expression, one that is full of awe and slight annoyance.

"You live here?" Dean blanches, craning his neck to look at the tower.

Cas throws money to the cab driver and saunters up next Dean with his suitcase, laying a hand on his shoulder. "I know it's a bit much to take in…"

"You said your father was a lawyer, Cas. You never said he was damn rich!" Dean exclaims.

"Mr. Trump is my father's wealthiest client and very close friend. He allows our family to live here at no cost in the best accommodations. This is the life I've always led, so please try to keep your cool?"

Dean just mumbles a few unintelligible words and stalks forward with an angry gait. Cas just sighs and walks through the double doors, giving a quick head nod to the bellman as he wanders over to the elevator, hitting the button for the top floor. He can feel Dean tense beside him as they step inside with a bunch of fancily dressed women, their jeans and wrinkled t-shirts looking quite out of place in comparison.

"I'm way too unprepared for this," Dean mutters. "I can't hang with politicians and overly dressed clowns in bad suits," he says, but Cas shushes him quickly.

"Will you please try to keep it civil?" Cas hisses under his breath. "Everyone in this building know my father and therefore knows me. He'll have a fit if he hears that his son's new boy toy is talking crap about them."

"Excuse me, boy toy? Is that what I am now?" Dean argues under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides.

Cas lets out a breath. "Can we not do this right now? That is what you'll look like to this crowd. I'm sorry, but it's true. You just have to prove them wrong."

"I can't prove them wrong! I am what I am, Cas, and if your family can't accept that-"

"Boys, boys! What is up? A lovers squabble, perhaps?"

The elevator opens and a very familiar face stands before them, hazel eyes looking on with an amused light in them. Gabriel leans back against the wall dressed in a horrendous sweater with a turkey on it, and he has a Twizzler sticking out of his mouth and a little grin perched on his face.

Cas can't help but laugh at his favorite brother. "Hello, Gabriel," he responds with a smile.

Gabriel grabs the Twizzler from his mouth and tosses it haphazardly on the floor, then surges towards Cas and hugs him, the warmth of his brothers body feeling familiar and right in his arms, like home.

"Care to introduce me to Mr. Grumpykins over there?" Gabriel teases as he lets go of Cas and grabs Cas's luggage from behind him.

He turns around and finds Dean looking on with a little frown on his face, one that makes him look like an annoyed turtle.

"This is Dean," Cas gestures to the man behind him. "My…boyfriend."

He braces himself for Gabe's jibes, but instead gets silence and a look of awe from his brother.

"Boyfriend?" Gabriel parrots back, his eyes wide. "Really now?"

The look at passes between him and Gabriel must be enough of a cue for Dean to exit, because he awkwardly slumps away while muttering "Uh…I'll be over here."

When Dean is out of earshot, Gabriel lays into Cas as expected.

"Boyfriend? Are you sure you're ready for that?" Gabe asks quietly, eyeing Dean down the hall with a look of concern in his eyes.

"Dean is nothing like Bartholomew," Cas defends quickly. "He's everything that aggravating bastard isn't. It's been three years since I've seen Bart last and I've grown since then. Why do you think I brought him home if I wasn't ready for this?"

Gabe sighs heavily and leads Cas down the hall, an arm thrown over his shoulders. "It's not that I'm worried about, kiddo. It's just the fact that you never called me to talk about him. How long have you two been together? A few weeks? Months? I understand you trying to keep this from Balthazar because you know he'll tease you to no end, or Michael because he's a self righteous prick who will find something wrong with the boy, but why not me?"

"Because I was afraid, okay? Afraid you wouldn't…approve. Dean's not the type of person I usually hang around and that's one of the reasons why I like him so much. He's different-"

"-And by different you mean not a stuck up rich tycoon like the people dad usually makes us hang around?" Gabe interrupts with a smirk.

"Exactly."

Gabriel sighs heavily and lets go of Cas's shoulders, choosing to lean back against the wall instead. "You know Dad won't approve of this, y'know. He'll throw a fit if he finds out you're dating a man, and will throw an even bigger hissy fit once he finds out this guy is straight up broke. Anything else I should know about the lad?"

Cas sighs heavily. "Well, there is the small fact that he also has leukemia…"

"Wait, so he's sick too? Oh man," Gabe says with a bitter laugh, "this is going to be the best Thanksgiving ever."


	10. A Sky Full of Stars

Dean doesn't know what he expected when he accepted Cas's invitation to spend Thanksgiving with his family, but it definitely did not include butlers fluttering around and men in tight pants with sweaters tied around their shoulders. While Cas talks to his brother, Dean watches the passerby with anxious eyes. In the span of five minutes he sees a group of lawyers pass him talking about who knows what, one even glaring at Dean while he passes, and also comes across a woman exiting her room in the fanciest get up he's ever witnessed. He looks down at his worn jeans and crinkled shirt and laughs to himself. _Well, this is going to be an interesting couple of days in the Novak world._

When Gabe and Cas return the brothers open the door to a whole world Dean has only witnessed in films. The "apartment", if you can really call it that, if a fully functioning presidential accommodation filled with glass tables, futuristic looking furniture, and lots of glittering, breakable objects floating around. Dean doesn't know where to begin; the space takes up the entire length of the building and has a loft where a pool table and fully stocked bar reside.

"You live here?" Dean asks incredulously.

Cas laughs. "Didn't we establish this already? It's not that big of a deal, Dean."

"Like hell it isn't. I grew up living in a thousand year old fishing cottage where the windows were broken and the heat didn't work. You grew up living like Bill Gates!"

"If it's any consolation, we hardly ever lived here. We traveled most of the time to Rome and other exotic locals," Gabriel chimes in with that little irritating smirk on his face. Dean already has the urge to punch it right off.

"Oh Gabriel, you are forgetting so many places! Italy, Milan, Rome, Paris," an unfamiliar voice calls from above them.

Cas freezes next to Dean and he doesn't have to even look up to know who will be standing there. Footsteps echo through the now silent space as a man in a white suit traverses the steps from the loft, a smile that is eerily similar to Gabriel's plastered on his face. "London, Los Angeles, Budapest, but who am I to brag? Thank you for helping my son up with his bags," the man says as he turns in Dean's direction, reaching into his pocket to grab a stack of hundred dollar bills. "Take this for your troubles." He throws three hundreds at Dean's face and he lets them fall to the ground, staring the man in the eye.

"Father," Gabriel interrupts from behind him, "this is Castiel's friend. He's staying with us for Thanksgiving."

Lucifer Novak turns his attention to Dean once more and automatically looks at him with a sour expression on his face. "Is he now? Castiel never informed me that we were having guests this holiday."

"I would have if you ever answered your phone," Cas mutters under his breath, clearly annoyed.

"You can call Pamela at any time, you know that," Lucifer replies with a grin. "She is my assistant for a reason."

Dean leans back on his heels as the father and son glare at one another from across the room.

Lucifer huffs out a breath and turns back to Dean, offering his hand. "Well then, it's nice to meet you Mr…?"

"Winchester," he finishes. "Dean Winchester."

"Ah, I see. Well Mr. Winchester, if you're going to be dining with us you better clean up." He turns around and eyes Cas with a vicious smirk. "I don't allow people who are dressed like rats to eat at my table."

Dean's mouth hangs open in shock as the man leaves the room, patting Cas on the shoulder as he passes along. Gabriel runs a hand over his face in clear distaste while Cas practically runs to Dean's side, profusely apologizing before he can even look Dean in the eye.

"I"m so sorry," Cas replies quickly, his head shaking back and forth. "He lives up to his name at times."

He just sighs and takes Cas's hand, trying not to notice that he tenses at the touch. "Whatever, I'm used to it. Can you just show me where I'm staying so I can take a shower? I smell like airport and old cab driver."

"Watch out, you two. Don't let the devil catch you!" Gabriel calls as they walk away.

Dean can't help himself; a little smile comes to his face. Maybe that Gabriel isn't so horrible after all.

* * *

The room Cas leads Dean to is beyond extraordinary. The bed is king sized and takes up most of the space, two glass nightstands on both sides. There is also a walk in closet that is filled to the brim with suits and fancy looking clothes, and a large plasma screen TV is mounted on the wall. However, Dean also notices the little personal touches to the space, such as the bookshelf that is full of old comics and the record player that is sitting in the corner, Beatles albums lined up against the stand.

"Whose room is this?" Dean asks as he throws himself onto the bed, spreading out over the perfectly placed covers.

Cas smiles a bit. "This is my room."

Dean automatically jumps up, trying to smooth out the wrinkles he made on the bed, but Cas just pushes him aside.

"It's okay, Dean. Get some rest. It's been a long day and my father has been less than civil towards you. Oh, and you'll have to borrow some of my clothes for dinner tonight. My father was not kidding earlier; we all wear our best attire for family dinners around here and he'll not stand for you if you are dressed like that. I'm sure you'll fit in something I own…" Cas looks Dean over with a critical eye, his gaze flickering between Dean's form and the closet.

"Oh no, you're not putting me in a monkey suit! It's not happening no matter what your father wants! I'll just get on a plane back to California if it's going to be like that the whole week," he rants with a glare on his face.

"Fine, but then you'll be spending Thanksgiving alone without eating Rose's amazing turkey," Cas teases, coming up behind Dean and leaning his arms down on his head.

"…Rose's turkey?" he asks lightly, interest peaking.

"Yes Dean, Rose Palos' turkey. She's the head chef of the restaurant downstairs and always cooks a feast on Thanksgiving. My father pays her well to bake extra for us so we don't have to cook. We learned our lesson that first Thanksgiving after our mother left us; Novak men do not know anything about cooking. We almost burned the entire building down," Cas reminisces.

"And I can try this amazing turkey if I just wear a suit for a few hours?" Dean questions, his resolve quickly fading with thoughts of a steaming turkey dinner with all the trimmings, something he hasn't had since he was a child.

"That, and there will be pie," Cas taunts, leaning around Dean to look him in the face. "What do you say?"

Dean throws himself back on the sheets and lets out a groan. "Fine Cas, I'll go along with this. Only because I really care about you!" he calls as Cas walks out the door, shutting it behind him.

He can hear Cas's light laugher from behind the wood barrier. "You're doing it for the pie; you don't have to lie to me, Dean!"

"It's for you…and maybe a little bit for the pie and turkey too!" Dean admits.

He hears Cas's footsteps fade away as he walks down the hall, and Dean tosses over on the bed and falls asleep easily.

* * *

That night when Dean throws on the suit he fished out of Cas's closet, he feels absolutely ridiculous. Dean looks himself over in the mirror and cringes at the too tight fabric that is pushing against his form. It only gets worse when he removes the beanie that has been a staple of his wardrobe for the past few months, his bald head revealed for everyone to see. He almost steps out of the clothes immediately and wonders if he can get away with punching Lucifer Novak in the face without a law suit, but suddenly a knock at the door distracts him.

"Come in," Dean grunts, running a hand over the smooth fabric.

"Dean?"

He turns around and finds Cas there dressed like he's James Bond, his suit perfectly tailored and ironed. His slicked back locks make Dean's heart speed up a little because he looks so gorgeous standing there in the doorway, leaning back like he's about to take Dean then and there.

"Uh…" Dean trails off, words escaping him as he looks at Cas.

"You look great, Dean," Cas says quickly, walking forward to adjust the bow tie hanging around Dean's neck. "You really need to learn how to tie a tie properly though."

Dean's gaze flits down to Cas's gentle hands working the tie, his fingers long and elegant. He gulps back a breath and tries to breathe easy. Snap out of it, Winchester. It's just Cas! Dorky, wonderful…sexy…beautiful…

"Dean, are you okay?" Cas asks.

He brings his gaze up to Cas's and blushes when he finds that birdlike expression on his face, those blue eyes pulling him in like a tide to the ocean. He quickly wonders when he became such a sap, but Cas's breath smells like peppermint and it pulls his attention back to Cas.

"Um…" Dean stammers, "you look amazing, Cas. Do we really have to go down there?" he whines, leaning into Cas's space.

Cas laughs lightly and pecks a chaste kiss on his lips, the sensation rushing through his system like a little bolt of electricity. "Yes Dean, dinner's being served in five minutes and my father does not tolerate tardiness. We've better get going."

Dean sighs heavily and follows Cas out the door. "Thanksgiving isn't even for another five days. Are we gonna to have to dress like business clowns every night this week?"

"Will you hush and go along with it? You look amazing, Dean. And…it's kinda really hot," Cas practically purrs, which is the last thing Dean needs right now.

"If you don't quit that we'll just have to conveniently get lost in this huge apartment you've got," Dean whispers lowly, leaning close to Cas's form. "Y'know, it's easy for a newbie to lose his way around here…"

Cas's breath hitches and Dean grabs Cas's hand, trying to pull him towards the closet a few feet back.

"C'mon, Cas. Please?" he juts out his lower lip and pecks a kiss on Cas's cheek. "One quick make out session?

Five minutes later Dean and Cas walk into the dining room just as plates of steak are being passed around. He sees Lucifer Novak descending the stairs, and witnesses Gabe throwing him a wink when he catches a glimpse of Cas's now ruffled hair.

"Boys, glad you got here promptly," Lucifer calls from across the room, taking his place at the head of the table.

Dean takes a seat next to Cas and looks around the space, noticing that two more unfamiliar faces are placed at the table next to Gabe, one a man with dark hair and those trademark Novak blue eyes while the other looks more like Gabe, a man with golden hair who smirks in Dean's direction when he catches him looking.

"Do we have any choice?" the dark haired one mutters under his breath.

"Michael, please. We have a guest," Lucifer says while he gestures to Dean. "This is Castiel's friend, Dan."

"Actually it's Dean-" he tries to correct the guy, but that devil is waving his hand in Dean's direction like he's an annoying fly.

"Boys, we haven't been in the same room together since August. What is new with you all?" Lucifer asks jovially, taking a swig of the red wine that is placed before him. "Balthazar, I'm sure your studies are going well?"

The blond man, Balthazar, huffs out a sigh and rolls his eyes when Lucifer isn't looking. "Oh you know me, father. All studying and no fun," he says sarcastically.

"And you, Gabriel?" Lucifer asks, not even paying attention to his son.

"Oh you know, being a top notch person. Working at the New York firm slinging jokes and getting girls. Oh, and I think you should know that I robbed a bank and that I stole a whale from the Shedd before I came here, but what else is new?"

"That's nice, son," Lucifer responds as he beckons for one of the never-ending butlers flitting around. "And you, Castiel? I'm sure your journey through pre-law is treating you well?"

Gabriel just laughs lowly to himself and Dean swears that he cuts into his steak a little bit harsher than before.

Dean looks over at Cas and finds him avoiding anyone's gaze, his eyes fixated on the untouched food in front of him.

"Actually father…I'm not pre-law anymore."

The silence that automatically falls on the room is enough to make Dean slouch a little lower in his seat. Of course he knew about Cas's plans to change majors come spring, but he never expected Cas to tell his entire family, and especially not during one of the biggest holidays of the year.

He can see Cas's distress so he leans over a little and grabs Cas's hand under the table, feeling the racing pulse in his fingers. He slides their two hands together and squeezes, trying to nonverbally show the support.

Lucifer is the first to break the silence, his voice eerily calm. "Excuse me?"

Cas huffs out a breath and flicks his gaze up to his father, the defiance there tangible and alive. "Everything is all worked out; I'm going to major in psychology come spring."

Silence again. The Novak men just gape back at Cas like he's grown three heads, besides Gabriel who just grins back at Cas from across the table.

"But…why?" Michael asks incredulously, throwing his hands in the air. "This is what you've worked towards for years! Why give it up now?"

Cas meets Dean's gaze and smiles. "Because someone told me that life isn't all about the end result; it's about being happy and trying to make the most out of the little time we're given. Being a lawyer wasn't going to give me that. The type of lawyer I was setting out to be wasn't one who would help people, and dammit, I really do want to help people. I'm not going to be a lawyer, I'm going to be a counselor. And I don't care what any of you think!" Cas points his finger at everyone in the room. His being is calm but Dean can see the raging fire in his eyes, ready to burst out and set the whole place aflame.

"Castiel, this is ridiculous. You will not go down this path in life; you will do what you're destined to do-" Lucifer beings, but is cut off by a now glowing Cas.

"And what is that, father? A lawyer whose job is to support criminals and get them out of jail time? To be a liar? That's not me, it has never been me! Don't you see that? Or do you not have the capacity to care?"

"Cas, you may want to tone it down a bit…" Dean mutters under his breath, but Cas is full force now, a thousand different emotions flying through the air with his words, Lucifer recoiling with every jab of his son's finger.

"No! I've been the silent son for who knows how long; I'm not holding back now. I'm going to do what's right for me for once in my life! I'm going to be selfish for once and be a little reckless; I'm going to love endlessly and not be the robot you raised me to be. I want to live," Cas whines. His voice is breaking and raw, the most beautiful sound Dean Winchester has ever heard.

It happens in an instant. One moment after Cas's little speech the room is once again still, then the next it's a hurricane. Lucifer jumps from his seat and surprises everyone in the room, stalking over to Cas and grabbing him by the shoulders.

"You think you're going to disrespect me?! In my house?! You will follow orders-"

"I'M NOT A FREAKING SOLIDER; I'M YOUR SON."

"Will you all calm down!" Gabriel says loudly, pushing the two men away from one another. "This is crazy! Are we a family or a bunch of animals?"

Dean can only look on at the fight, hating the way Lucifer eyes Cas like he's the next meal.

"We can be a family if Castiel stops this childish game and does what he is told," Lucifer says harshly. "Any son who doesn't follow my rules is not a son of mine."

The words that fly out of Cas's mouth next make Dean jump in surprise.

"…Then I guess I'm not your son anymore."

Lucifer stills. The brothers look on at Cas with fear in their eyes, especially Gabriel. It looks like that Novak is going to throw himself between Cas and his father, and Dean doesn't blame him. The father and son look like a war is about to break out over the now cold steaks, the furniture looking extremely more breakable than before.

"Get out," Lucifer says in a whisper. "Get out of my house. If you don't want the responsibility of a Novak, then just get out and never come back. I have others who would do anything to be in your shoes, Castiel. You do realize that, don't you? I can replace you in an instant."

Cas just looks at his father with a sad smile. "I hope you find happiness someday, father, because you're one broken man if you'd let a son go over something as small as this." He turns to Dean and lifts their still entwined hands. "Oh and just before I go, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend," he says the word like a purr, and Dean blushes instantly. "Let's go, Dean."

Dean gets up from his seat and follows Cas out the door, leaving that world of champagne and strawberries behind.

* * *

The two end up at a dive bar downtown in their pressed suits and fancy shoes, trying to duck away from the curious gazes that rake over them. Cas slips the bartender three hundred dollar bills (apparently he picked up the ones left at Dean's feet) and instructs him to send over the best bottle of whiskey they have to offer. When they receive the amber liquid and toast to their less than amazing night, Dean doesn't hesitate to take the bottle from Cas and pulls a swig, loving the familiar sting of alcohol down his throat.

"Whoa Dean, turn it down a notch," Cas calls over the thumping music. "You'll be drunk in minutes!"

Dean just eyes Cas slyly and tips back the bottle once more, loving the way he sees Cas's being tighten up a bit.

"You're a dick," Cas says lightly, a little tight grin coming to his mouth. "You know that?"

"I'm aware," Dean replies, shoving the bottle over to Cas. "Now drink a little. I'm not the one who was pushed out of his home tonight and we've now got an entire week to ourselves in the city! Let's live!"

Cas smiles and takes the bottle gingerly from Dean's fingers, pouring the liquid into his mouth. When Cas cringes it looks like a cat that got sprayed with water, and when he slams the bottle down on the wooden bar it only makes Dean laugh.

"You drink this for fun?" Cas asks incredulously. "It's vile! It's like…I poured hot acid down my throat or something!"

"Oh c'mon, Cas, it isn't that bad! You just have to get used to it, that's all! It's a treasure!"

Cas just rubs a hand over his eyes and coughs out a breath, shoving the bottle back in Dean's direction. "I'll stick with my beer, thank you," he croaks out, his voice all rough from the sting of the drink. "You have fun."

Dean shrugs and lets the liquid run down this throat once more, already feeling the effects on his system. Dean never could hold his alcohol well and it only got worse with the cancer. Now it's already showing, the room around him slowing and everything becoming more hazy. The music seems to rush through his system and it causes him to grab Cas's hand and drag him from his seat.

"Where are we going?" he asks, stumbling behind Dean as he is dragged onto the dance floor.

"Well…what does it look like? Care to dance, Novak?"

Cas just stares back at Dean for a second before pulling him into a tight embrace. "Let's dance, Dean."

The two of them automatically fall into the beat of the music, the other dancers crushing in all around them. Dean is the first to admit that his dance skills are less than extraordinary, but Cas is a pro from the beginning. While he tries to move his legs and arms at the same time without success, Cas is like a snake, hips moving smoothly while his arms fly up over his body, head thrown back. Just watching Cas brings thoughts into his mind, and Dean has to look away to compose himself before joining in with the dance. However when it becomes apparent that Dean is a lost cause, Cas steps in.

"You're not doing it right," Cas yells over the now tangible beat of the music, so loud that Dean can barely hear Cas's voice.

"What?" Dean responds, but Cas just shakes his head and comes closer, his hands landing on Dean's hips.

"You've got to go with the beat," Cas whispers in Dean's ear. He uses his fingers to press into Dean's sides, and suddenly Cas is flush against Dean's body, guiding his hips along with the pop song that is blaring over the speakers. "Like this."

Cas moves his hips along with Dean's and the rest of the world fades away. In that moment the blaring beat goes away along with the other dancers, and the only thing Dean can comprehend is the fact that Cas's bones are pushed up against his, that Cas's hands are now slipping under his shirt to explore the skin on his back. It all makes Dean lose his breath, his limbs feeling like jello from Cas's touch and not the leukemia for once. It makes him feel like a man without a disease, a man who is fully and truly alive.

Dean's voice is low and husky when he leans into Cas's ear, not even caring that he's probably about to do the one thing he vowed he'd never do with Cas.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

Cas's returning kiss is enough of an answer for Dean, and the two stumble out of the bar with hands all over, lips brushing in completely foreign ways. They make it to a dirty alley before Cas rips off Dean's vest and pops open the top buttons of his shirt, his hands flying over Dean like never before. The next thing Dean knows his hands are exploring back, fingers practically ripping Cas's shirt in an attempt to reach the skin there. His lips take a break from Cas's and lean down to suck bites into his shoulder, Cas's returning gasp enough for him to continue.

"Cas…" Dean moans as his hand slides further down his back, but he's cut off by the familiar ringing of his phone. He pushes Cas away for a second and pulls out the device.

_Jo Harvelle calling…_

Dean swears under his breath but holds up his finger to Cas regardless, taking the call.

"What do you want, Jo? I'm a bit busy!" he growls, but the crying on the other end of the line stops him cold.

"Dean?" she gets out between heaving sobs, and he automatically falls back against the brick wall. It's as if he already knows what she will say before she utters the words, and he already feels his heart breaking.

"Jo? What's wrong?"

"It's…it's…"

"Shh, it's okay. Jo, tell me what's wrong," Dean whispers into the phone.

"It's my mom. It's…she's gone, Dean. She's dead."


	11. Human

When Cas hears the news, his heart falls into his stomach. He didn’t know Ellen for very long or extremely well, but he always felt a connection between himself and Ellen, almost as if they would have been close friends if death didn’t take her away.  
  
Dean is clearly devastated, his whole body collapsing when he gets off the phone with Jo. Cas doesn’t even need to ask what happened; he knows internally that Ellen is gone. It only takes one tear-streaked look from Dean for Cas to rush over and pull Dean into his arms, hugging him close against the dirty alley floor. Snow starts to fall from above them and Cas can see his breath in the cold air, but in that moment he does not care. All that matters is Dean’s body wrapped up in his, that familiar warmth in his embrace. He doesn’t even notice the blanket of white that has accumulated on them until he starts shivering, noticing quickly that all winter jackets were left inside the bar.  
  
“We should go,” Cas whispers into Dean’s ear, Dean’s head still rested against his chest. “We’re gonna get sick and this can’t be good for you.”  
  
“Okay,” Dean whispers back, but his voice breaks and he makes no effort to move.  
  
“Dean…”  
  
“Cas, I don’t wanna hear it right now. Ellen was like a mother to me; it feels like a part of myself is gone, y’know?”  
  
“I know, Dean. I know. Ellen was a wonderful lady, but dying from hypothermia is no way to honor her memory. Get up and we’ll grab our things from the bar; I can have us on a plane back to California in the morning.”  
  
He can feel Dean nod into his chest. He grabs Dean and hauls him up from the ground, only slightly losing his balance on the slippery surface. When the two of them make it back to the bar with snow dripping off their figures, it only takes one glare from the bartender for them to get the cue, grab their coats and take their leave.  
  
The two of them hail a cab back to O’Hare and spend their night at the airport, Cas thinking of nowhere else to go. They buy tickets back to Los Angeles and then find a secluded corner in their terminal, Dean falling asleep on Cas’s figure the second they hit the ground. He looks so peaceful in sleep, the tears from earlier drying up on his face and that worried grimace smoothing out into a smile. He can’t help but run his hand over Dean’s head, not knowing how else to comfort the sleeping Winchester. Ellen was practically Dean’s family; he can’t even imagine what he’s going through right now.  
  
Cas doesn’t sleep that night; all he can think of is Dean’s body leaning against his own. All he can focus on is Dean’s rising and falling chest, battling thoughts that say Dean could be the next to go. It isn’t like Cas doesn’t know how bad Dean’s condition is after all. Even though he tries to hide it, Cas knows about the frequented doctor’s visits, Sam informing Cas of his brother’s progress or lack thereof when Dean refuses to give up the details. And even though Dean would never tell Cas until it is absolutely certain, he knows a bone marrow transplant is becoming a likelier option every day that passes and that finding a donor will be tough.  
  
He should be mourning Ellen, but there is still a part of him whose only concern is losing Dean, and that tears him up inside.  
  
The plane ride back to California is filled with tension and silence. Dean refuses to talk to anyone, even the flight attendants who ask him if he needs anything. All he does is stare out the window with a blank expression on his face, his arms crossed over his chest. This continues even when they are at luggage claim for Cas’s bags that Gabriel graciously brought to O’Hare for him, and goes on all the way to Dean’s apartment. The first time Dean utters a word is when he walks inside and finds Sam waiting for him, his brother automatically walking forward to throw his arms around Dean.  
  
The sobbing starts almost immediately and Cas automatically feels out of place. These brothers lost a true mother figure, a person who practically raised them. It doesn’t take long for Cas to realize that this is a brother moment and that he isn’t needed. He slips out the door as the brothers hug and whisper “it’s okay” to one another.  
  
The night is cool as Cas steps out of the apartment and into the night. A sky full of stars shines bright above him and he automatically feels his heart sink. Ellen mentioned to him once that she used to gaze into the stars for fun with Jo, the two driving outside of city limits to see how many they could count before losing their place. He wonders if she’s one of those stars now, her soul part of a distant constellation.  
  
“Cas? What are you doin’ out this late?”  
  
His heart lightens when the voice rings out behind him and he doesn’t even need to turn around to know who will be standing there.  
  
“Charlie? What are you doing out this late?” he asks, turning around the get a good look at the redhead. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair is in a disarray, lipstick smudged on her face.  
  
“You first,” she replies.  
  
Cas sighs. “I was dropping Dean off at his apartment. Ellen died yesterday.”  
  
The Bradbury automatically turns somber. “Cas…” she starts, but he cuts her off with a hand wave.  
  
“I’m sad, but Dean is devastated. This must be hard on you too, I’m sure.”  
  
Charlie throws him a sad smile. “I didn’t know her well but I know how much she meant to Dean. I can only imagine what this must be like for him right now…”  
  
“He’s a mess, but Sam is taking care of him. I think they both just need one another. But…you didn’t answer my question from earlier. What are you doing out this late, Bradbury?”  
  
Her somber mood turns giddy as she turns her face away, trying to rub the lipstick off her cheek.  
  
“Let’s just say that I was right about Glinda after all and that we had a fun time…”  
  
Cas can’t help it, he grins like a cat and crosses his arms over his chest as he looks on at the blushing Bradbury. “Well look at you go, Charlie. At least you’re getting some,” he says a bit bitterly. Despite everything he honestly thought yesterday was going to finally be the time he and Dean went all the way, and the fact that they got so close but were so far puts him a little bit on edge. Of course he gets why, he’s not insensitive to the issue at hand and will wait for whenever Dean is ready, but the sexual frustration that is rising inside him is not something that can be ignored.  
  
“What? You and the boy not going at it like rabbits yet?” Charlie asks with a laugh. “From the look on your face I would say…no.”  
  
“Shut up, Bradbury,” he snaps back.  
  
“Ooh, look whose’s getting testy,” she says with a giggle. “Oh wait…you’re not, are ya?”  
  
Cas just glares and turns away from the Bradbury, his patience suddenly gone. “Bye, Charlie!” he calls sarcastically as he walks away, but Charlie is having none of it.  
  
“Oh calm down, I was just joking. Cas!” she calls when he doesn’t stop, and suddenly a hand is on his arm. “What is with you?”  
  
What is with him? He lists off the problems in his head. One, he just got kicked out of his home and was essentially disowned by his father. Two, his boyfriend is dying and there is no way he can stop it. Three, he essentially is starting his college career over with this major change, hardly any of his pre-law classes qualifying for his new degree in psychology. And to top it all off, Ellen is now dead. Yeah, there’s a lot that is going on with him right now.  
  
“Everything, Charlie. Everything is turning to crap around me and I don’t know how to stop it! I don’t have the cure for cancer and I’ve been disowned by my own father! I essentially don’t have a home anymore and…and…argh!” he screams in frustration, kicking the ground with his foot. It’s like the past day and a half suddenly crash down around him, everything falling at his feet.  
  
“You’re frustrated,” Charlie says as she releases his arm from her grip, instead motioning for him to turn towards her. “I’ve never seen you like this, Castiel. It’s sort of refreshing. I thought you were incapable of emotions like these. It’s…interesting.”  
  
Cas huffs out an annoyed breath. “Well, glad to know my life crisis is amusing to you.”  
  
“Cas…you know I didn’t mean it like that. Stop being petty,” she says a bit harshly, demanding attention with the way she holds her ground and crosses her arms. “What I mean is that I’m glad you’re breaking apart. We all have to go through periods of our life like that. It’s part of being human, and I’m not going to lie, sometimes I wonder if you’re an alien or something. You’re always so…I don’t know…stoic? It’s a bit intimidating.”  
He doesn’t know how to respond to that so he just clenches his arms and tries to breathe normally.  
  
“I don’t know what to do, Charlie. Dean is hurting and I have no way to comfort him. You’ve known him longer than I have. What do I do?”  
  
The Bradbury sighs and once more grabs Cas’s arm, dragging him down the path towards the campus entrance.  
  
“You’re not going to do anything, Novak. You don’t need to be the hero every single time something goes wrong in Dean Winchester’s life. I hate to break it to ya, but Dean is not someone who needs to be saved. He can do that himself. What he needs is support and someone to tell him that he’s not the screw-up he makes himself out to be. And that, my friend, is where you come in. You need to be the support system that he lacks in his life. Sure, Sam will spout out whatever Dean needs to hear, but he’s told me countless times that he doesn’t believe what his brother says. It wasn’t until you came around that I really saw a change in him, a will to fight. Maybe you can’t comfort him now, but you will be able to again. That I can promise you.”  
  
He looks at Charlie and smiles back, his less than happy mood lightened with her words. “That was wise, Yoda,” he jokes around, and the Bradbury punches him in the arm.  
  
“Oh hush, I was only trying to help!”  
  
Cas just laughs and follows her lead down the sidewalk, not even noticing where they’re headed.  
  
“Hey Charlie, where are we going?” he asks.  
  
Charlie grins as they stop in front of a building with a glowing neon signs out front. “You asked what you’re supposed to do, and I have an answer. You need a night away from drama,  Castiel.”  
  
“And that implies…?”  
  
The Bradbury throws him a grin. “Getting drunk, of course.”

* * *

The next day Cas wakes up with the biggest hangover he’s ever experienced.  
  
It’s a miracle that he remembered the night before at all, to be honest. Charlie made sure that he would not think of the problems in his life, throwing the bartender her best flirtatious smile so they could get free drinks. The vodka shots never slowed and soon enough the room just became a hazy blur, every moment fading into the next like an endless mirage. Somehow he ended up back in his bed with his day old clothes on. His headache is raging and he almost considers rolling back over to sleep through the rest of the day, but the ringing of his cell phone disrupts his thought process. Of course he grabs it and pushes the button without looking, expecting to hear a gloating Charlie on the other end.  
  
“Hello?” he says, but it comes out more like a groan than a word.  
  
“Cassy!” Dean’s voice rings from the other end, and it’s like the past few days are nonexistent, the playful Dean that he knows back to life once again.  
  
“Dean?” he grumbles, hating how rough and hungover he sounds.  
  
“Yeah, it’s me. You sound wrecked. What happened to you last night? I turned around and you were gone.”  
  
“I…thought you didn’t need me so I went out with Charlie. Needless to say I’m not in the best shape right now.”  
  
“Well you better be, because I’m outside your room right now. Open up, you dork,” he says with endearment.  
  
Cas hangs up the phone and walks over to the door, flipping the lock to let Dean inside. Dean surprises him, but not by his presence. His clothing is what takes him offguard, Dean dressed in a freshly pressed suit and tie, looking like he’s about to go on one of his father’s yachts.  
   
“What’s going on, James Bond?” Cas asks as Dean steps around him, taking a seat on his unmade bed.  
  
“Get dressed in your nicest suit. We’re leaving in five,” Dean says, shooing Cas away into his closet.  
  
“That doesn’t answer my question!” he calls as he retreats into bathroom. “What is this about?”  
  
Dean sighs heavily and Cas automatically stops. He turns around and find Dean looking out the window, his attention diverted.  
  
“Impromptu funeral for Ellen. Jo called me early this mornin’ and said she wanted it to happen today. Her mom’s getting cremated after all, so no body to wait for. Sammy is waiting out in the Impala with Jess, which is lookin’ fabulous by the way, and everything is ready to go. All we need is you, buddy.”  
  
Cas looks at Dean with a little tilt of his head and then shakes it, trying to get his surroundings. The hangover is raging and everything Dean says is like a bullhorn in his ears, his stomach still off kilter from the night before.  
  
“Okay…but why this early? Isn’t it, like, five in the morning or something?” Cas asks, looking at the darkness outside of his window.  
  
“Dude, how hungover are you? It’s seven o’clock…at night. I’ve been trying to call you all day! Finally I just decided that I was going to pour water on you or somethin’ like that.”  
Cas stares back at Dean and quickly checks his phone. Twelve missed calls light up his notification screen along with the date and time, seven o’clock on a Wednesday. He just groans as he throws the device back on the bed and walks over to the bathroom to change.  
  
“I can’t believe I slept all day,” Cas says lowly, trying to move as quick as his hungover body will allow.  
  
“That’s the ‘what goes around comes around’ of the hangover, Cas. It hurts like no other but you’ve just gotta keep trucking through it. Now hurry up; Jo is already at the beach and we’re gonna be late if you don’t kick it up a notch!”  
  
He sighs and grabs the suit that is hanging on the bathroom door, still there from the day they flew back from Chicago. It’s a bit rumpled and the bottom of the pants are a bit dirty from being stepped on, but it’s still easily the best thing he owns. It takes all of his effort but he manages to brush his teeth and throw on the outfit, emerging five minutes later.  
  
Dean whistles lowly. “Okay, I know I’ve said it before but you really look amazin’ in that suit. It makes up for the fact that there are circles under your eyes. Now let’s go.”  
  
He follows Dean out the door and down to the running Impala, Sam and Jess smushed together in the back seat. Jess throws him a sad smile as she looks on, and when he slides into the front seat she automatically puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tightly.  
  
The drive to the beach isn’t long, at least not at the pace Dean’s driving. He blasts ACDC with the windows down, not leaving any room for conversation. He thinks, no, he knows this is a coping mechanism, that Dean Winchester only opens up about feelings on rare and far between occasions, and today is apparently not one of them. He looks in the rearview mirror and finds Jess and Sam talking quietly to one another, but he has no clue how they can hear one another over the blasting music and Dean’s off-key singing.  
  
When they pull onto the sand Jo is already waiting for them, her black dress flowing in the wind. Her hair is piled up on her head and her back is turned to them, her stance stoic against the raging gust outside. He looks into the distance and notices the dark clouds hiding the moon, the waves barging against the shoreline to show the oncoming storm. _How appropriate._  
  
“Jo!” Dean calls a little bit too loudly.  
  
She turns with a black streak already down her face, her hand coming up to wipe the stains away.  
  
“Thanks for coming, everyone,” she says lowly, ducking her head away from the view of their group. “My mom always claimed that she would haunt me if I threw her a huge funeral, so I thought this was probably more…appropriate.”  
  
“We wouldn’t miss it for the world, Jo,” Sam chimes in from behind.  
  
“I have something prepared…if we want to start,” Dean says, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from his jacket.  
  
Jo nods her assent and gestures for him to step forward to a bed of flowers she has set on the ground, a picture of her mother leaning in the sand. Dean comes forward and walks behind the memorial, looking down at it with a sad smile on his face before he begins.  
  
“Ellen was both the easiest person to be around and the hardest,” Dean says, a little smile coming to his lips. “She was the easiest because she would always be there to listen, no matter how small the problem. She was the hardest because she would never lie to ya, and sometimes would just tell ya the truth even if it hurt. God knows she did it to me a thousand times.  
  
“She truly was a visionary, that woman. When she got the Roadhouse she automatically started planning out the changes that needed to be done and immediately bought paint the same day. The next she was shoving brushes into Sam and I hands, bribing us with free pizza afterwards and complimentary beers when we turned twenty one. She delivered on both fronts, because Ellen always kept her word. You could always trust her to be there for you.  
  
“Ellen Harvelle was the mother I never truly got to have, the fun aunt, and the father figure in my life all in one. She was everything to me and the fact that she will never call me ‘Winchester’ again breaks my heart. I hope wherever she is that she’s happy and looking down on us right now. Rest in peace, Ellen Harvelle. You’ll live on forever.”  
  
Dean steps back next to Cas and entwines their fingers together, the pressure feeling nice in his palm. The ocean roars back at them and he can taste the brine on his lips, the wind picking up as Sam takes Dean’s place and reads his goodbyes, tears running down everyone’s faces by the end of it.  
  
Finally, Jo steps forward and grabs a piece of paper anchored under the flowers, wiping her eyes before she begins. Her eulogy is easily the most gorgeous piece of work Cas has ever experienced, the way Jo describes her mother flowing and beautiful. By the end everyone is outright sobbing, the rain falling to wash away the tears on their faces.  
  
“She…she wouldn’t like us…cryin’,” Jo says through her hitching breaths. “She would want us to celebrate her…not mourning her like…this.”  
  
Sam sighs and leans into Jess a bit, her hands cradling his waist. “Jo’s right; this isn’t something Ellen would want.”  
  
“Then what would Ellen want?” Jess chimes in, her head leaning up to look into Sam’s eyes.  
  
Jo grins a little. “I think she would want us to open the Roadhouse for the night and drink to her life.”  
  
They waste no time piling into the Impala, Van Halen blasting out the windows all the way to the bar. They don’t even notice the rain pouring outside, the slick road ahead of them. All they care about is getting the words right to “Ain’t Talkin’ ‘Bout Love” and singing until the car next to them complains, then they turn up the tunes louder, singing as off-key as they can. For the first time in a long time they are all happy, even if it is just for a moment. For one beautiful, wonderful car ride, they are alive. They are free. They are home because they’re with each other, and that is all anyone needs.

* * *

When the crew pulls up to the bar, everyone who is still left in the college town already partying hard, the beat blasting louder than usual while hazy smoke flutters out the open windows.  
  
“Dammit, Ash,” Jo mumbles under her breath. “I said small party. Not invite the entirety of Carver!”  
  
They all pile out of the vehicle easily and walk into chaos. Ash has apparently declared an open bar and people are lining up by the masses, grabbing glass bottles at random to chug. Cas witnesses one girl who is already hammered twirl her way up to the bar and push past the others, taking swigs from every vessel on the wooden surface. The crowd roars as she plants herself on a barstool and howls into the crowd, throwing her tipsy form into the masses.  
  
“This is crazy!” Cas yells over the thrumming music under their feet, but Dean pays him no attention. He’s already pushing his way towards the front of the crowd, following the bodies towards the line of alcohol. It only takes one push and a glare for Dean to grab the untouched bottle of whiskey from the back, taking a swig as he swaggers his way back over to Cas.  
  
“Crazy? This is a blast! This is what we need, Cas, don’t you see that? After all the crap that has been happening these past few months, this is what we’ve been waiting for! A night out, just two boys on the town, drinking until the sun comes up. Yeah!”  
  
Cas gazes at Dean and shakes his head. “Dean, no. What you need is to cope with this naturally, not drown yourself in alcohol like I can already see you doing.”  
  
Dean throws Cas a harsh glance and brings the bottle to his lips once more, taking a swig with steely eyes. It breaks Cas to see Dean this way, a Dean who is so defiant and uncaring about his own health.  
  
“Fine, be that way. I won’t stop you then,” Cas replies, waving Dean away. “I’ll be here to drag your drunk ass home when you’re done.”  
  
“Thank you, Castiel,” Dean growls as he walks away, amber liquid pouring into his mouth as he stalks off.  
  
“You can’t stop him when he gets like this.”  
  
Sam appears in front of Cas with clear circles under his eyes, the past unrestful nights evident. His hair is also disheveled and his mouth is in a tight line, the clear worry apparent.  
  
“I know,” Cas replies heavily, “but I always try. It’s the way he copes, saying it can’t be more unhealthy than cancer. As if the two things are in any way connected.” Cas sighs.  
  
Sam puts a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “He’ll be fine. He’ll drink himself into drunkenness after that bottle is gone and then won’t really know what’s going on after. He’ll wake up tomorrow as the Dean we all love. It’s just…sad when he does this. It’s so similar to our father that is breaks me apart you know?”  
  
Cas sighs and watches as Dean drowns himself in the drink, talking to Jess with wild hand gestures.  
  
“Yeah, I know. You better save Jess from a drunken conversation with Dean; I can already feel urge to break out the karaoke coming off him.”  
  
Sam once again pats Cas on the shoulder as he leaves, diverting Dean away from a clearly uncomfortable Jess. The blonde starts to walk over to him but stops in her tracks, her eyes averted to something behind him, something that is causing her mouth to drop and her hand to fly up to her face.  
  
“I told you I would find you again. I will always find you, Castiel.”  
  
The words are chilling and Cas freezes in place, cold tendrils of ice running down his back at the voice. His feet are planted to the ground and he knows he has to turn around, but the bastard that Cas never wanted to see again beats him to it.  
  
A lanky figure saunters into his view with a cup of blood red wine in his hand, familiar crystalline blue eyes piercing his gaze. He looks exactly like Cas left him all those years ago, equal parts sex and terror.  
  
Only one word leaves Cas’s trembling lips.  
  
“ _Bartholomew._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notice anything? Behind the Lens is officially edited and finished at seventeen chapters total. I am going to go over it once more before I publish the rest of the story, but expect to have the entire work published in the next few days. 
> 
> If you've been reading this little world I've created for Dean and Cas, then I appreciate you more than you know. If you have commented, given feedback, or have pointed out an error in my portrayal of cancer, then I applaud you for investing your thoughts into this tale. I'm a relatively new fanfiction writer, and this is only one of two full length fics I have written. Your comments helped immensely in my journey to become a better writer, and I thank you. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the rest of this little tale, and please continue to leave your comments as I work my way through updating the rest of this work. 
> 
> You are all lovely.


	12. Like Real People Do

Dean is walking back from the closet with a karaoke machine in hand when he sees the blond bastard from across the room. He’s standing behind Cas with an absolute look of loathing on his face, even though his mouth is turned up in a grimacing smile. He stalks Cas like a predator, and it feels like Dean’s stomach is sinking. Cas looks freaking _terrified_ and just stands there like a frozen statue, his eyes staring helplessly straight ahead, his gaze locked on Jess and not the man in front of him.  
  
The room is hazy around them, the alcohol streaming through his system. He takes a step and immediately feels the pain rush through his body, but he ignores it. He tells himself that it’s no big deal, that Cas is more important than the recent diagnosis that is pushing at his conscience. With that thought he barrels through the discomfort and walks up to the blond, tapping him on the shoulder.  
  
“Dean…” Cas warns, but he is having none of it.  
  
“Hey, ugly,” Dean growls loudly, causing half of the bar to turn in their direction. A man a few inches taller than him turns, and he automatically staggers back. The guy is handsome to say the least, with blazing blue eyes and harsh bone structure. No wonder Cas fell for this man.  
  
“I’m having a conversation with Castiel over here. Who are you?” the man asks harshly, eyeing Dean like he’s an unpleasant bug.  
  
“I’m Cas’s boyfriend. You’re Bartholomew aren’t ya?” Dean asks, even though he already knows the answer. Only one look at the terrified expression on Cas’s face confirms that.  
  
“Yes, and I’m having a private conversation with Castiel. Now if you excuse me…” he trials off, trying to turn back to Cas, but Dean won’t allow that bastard anywhere near him.  
  
“Hey! I wasn’t done with ya!” he yells, grabbing Bartholomew’s expensive coat. He yanks the fabric and forces the man to look at him, annoyance in Bart’s eyes. However, Dean isn’t looking to have a conversation. He’s inebriated enough that throwing a punch is not even a thought; he just goes for it, laying one right into the bastard’s teeth. The man reels back in pain and howls, Dean laughing in a twisted bout of glee.  
  
“Dean! Stop!” Cas commands, an angry look crossing his face. “This isn’t your fight. He’s mine,” Cas practically growls, a low grumbling deep in his throat coming out.  
  
Bartholomew recovers quickly and pounds over to Dean, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket. “Do you dare punch a Graceland?” he says lowly, dangerously. Dean already can see the hand fly back, expecting a punch to land right in his face. But it never comes.  
  
The next thing Dean knows he’s being released from Bartholomew’s hold, stumbling back into the bar. He looks around and finds Bart crouched on the ground, his hands trying to stop the blood flowing freely from his nose. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to wheel back to Cas, who is now clutching his hand tightly.  
  
“…Cas?” Dean asks in awe, watching as Cas glares down at Bart with venom in his eyes.  
  
“I can fight my own battles, Dean,” he says coldly, and even though he can feel the alcohol slowly creeping, can feel the edges of the room grow hazy with the intoxication, he knows better than to get in Cas’s way.  
  
Bartholomew gets up from the floor and automatically lunges for Cas, but he doesn’t get far before Cas fights back with a cry, hitting him head on. The two collide in the most fierce fight Dean has ever witnessed, the two blurring together in action. One minute Bartholomew has his hands around Cas’s middle, kneeing him in the stomach, then the next Cas has his arms locked around Bart’s neck in a headlock, punches being thrown so viciously that Dean for a minute forgets that this is Cas fighting Bartholomew, not an avenging angel from above.  
  
The fight doesn’t last for long before others less drunk than Dean rush into action, pulling the two apart from one another. Cas is sporting a bloody nose and a scratch on his upper lip, but he looks almost normal compared to Bart. Bart looks like he got into a fight with a pro-wrestler instead of Cas, the barista who likes Star Trek. His face is completely wrecked, a bruise blooming across his cheek and a black eye already forming. Combined with the blood, Bart looks like a man walking away from a bear fight.  
  
Cas is being contained by Sam but Cas shakes him off, walking towards Bartholomew. He actually flinches back into the man who is holding him, cowering when Cas comes close to his face.  
  
Cas’s voice is low and filled with warning. “That’s for threatening my boyfriend,” he whispers, then slaps the man in the face with force. “And that’s for our relationship, you disgusting, vile human!”  
  
Bartholomew throws a frightened gaze as Cas backs away, grabbing Dean by the arm in the process. “Let’s get out of here, Dean.”  
  
He doesn’t ask questions. He just follows Cas out to the Impala and grabs the keys from his pocket, about to climb into the drivers seat when a hand lands on his.  
  
“You’re not driving,” Cas practically laughs, wrestling the keys from Dean’s hand.  
  
“Why not? I’m fine!” Dean replies, even though he can feel the haziness taking over his body from the alcohol and the tiredness from a long day falling over him.  
  
“Dean, you’re tipsy at least and drunk at most. I’m driving; end of discussion.”  
  
Usually Dean would argue, but after what he saw back at that bar he doesn’t bother, instead throwing Cas his keys as he slides into the passenger seat, watching as Cas gets accustomed to the Impala.  
  
“This doesn’t even feel like my car anymore,” Cas says as his hand touches the newly upholstered seats Dean installed a few weeks ago. “It’s like brand new!”  
  
Dean grins and reaches over to turn on the ignition, watching Cas’s face as the car purrs to life. Cas looks over at Dean in absolute awe when he hears the quietness of the car, a complete one-eighty from the gurgling noises it made before Dean fixed the ancient carburetor and bought a new one.  
  
“You really do love this car,” Cas says with admiration, pulling out of the parking lot when he looks in the rearview mirror and finds Bart angrily leaving the building.  
  
“It’s my baby now,” Dean replies easily, leaning his head back against the rest. “It’s all fixed though so you can take it back after tonight. You better let me drive it occasionally, though!”  
  
“Of course, Dean. I wouldn’t have it otherwise.”  
  
Dean smiles, grabbing Cas’s free hand to entwine their fingers together. He lets the feeling of the car vibrate through his body and the slowly he finds his eyes closing…  
  
The next thing Dean knows they’re not in a car anymore, but are instead in an unfamiliar room, one Dean has never seen before. He realizes quickly that somehow he got from the Impala to this lush bed, one covered in decorative pillows and a fluffy white comforter. The room is big, clearly a master, and there is a bathroom attached that looks heavenly. The carpet even looks lush enough to roll around in.  
  
“What the hell…” Dean whispers when he looks around and finds no one in the room, not even Cas. How did he end up here?  
  
“Cas?” Dean calls out, but he gets no response. “Cas!” he yells louder.  
  
Cas appears around the corner with a tray in hand, water and aspirin on the plate. He walks over to Dean and takes a seat on the bed, handing him the contents gingerly.  
  
“You look tired and you’ve got to have a headache after all of that. Take this; you’ll feel better,” Cas says.  
  
Dean does have a headache and he could use water, so he takes the items willingly. He can feel the pill fall down his throat and he has to think hard to stop the gagging reflex that wants to rear it’s ugly head, but he fights past it. With a sigh he falls back onto the fluffy pillows and looks up to the ceiling, finding a chandelier hanging down over his face.  
  
“Where are we?” he asks confusedly.  
  
“This is Jess’s vacation house; she gave me the key long ago in case I ever needed to use it, and tonight I clearly do. I can’t go back to my dorm looking like this unless I want to get grilled by Gadreel and the RA to boot, and we can’t go back to your apartment when you can bet Sam and Jess are there. We need to be alone, Dean. Just the two of us, and this is the only place I could think of.”  
  
Dean looks around the room once more and finally clicks the pieces together. Cas and him are finally alone, something that has barely ever happened since they started dating. His mind flies back to the night he got the news about Ellen, and the precious hour beforehand. He remembers the touches and the kissing, all of the embraces that made his body melt under Cas’s fingers. It takes no time at all for him to realize what Cas is implying and lunges across the space to crush his lips against Cas's.

He springs back at the embrace and lightly pushes Dean away. “What are you doing?” Cas asks confusedly, and Dean immediately feels his face burn bright.  
  
“Oh I…” he flails for words, extreme embarrassment rising to his being. “It’s just the room…the bed…you talking about us being alone…I thought you would want to…” he trails off, eyes averting to the pillows below him.  
  
Cas’s face lights up in recognition and a little grin rises to his mouth. “Dean…I brought you here because I think we need to talk about Ellen, not to have sex with you!” he laughs incredulously. “Not that I don’t want to…”  
  
Dean runs a quick hand over his face. His head is pounding and the room around him is pushing in, and in that moment Dean doesn’t care about what he said before. All of this time he has avoided the elephant in the room, the connections Cas and him have not explored. He knows Cas is willing; it’s not like they haven’t talked about this before, after all. He’s the problem here, the one who is pulling back, and for what? To not hurt Cas? To not cross that line of two bodies colliding into one, the fear that he’ll die and break the connection outweighing the passion the two of them feel? It could be the alcohol talking or the pure desire erupting in his body, but Dean voices the words that he has been trying to avoid.  
  
“Then why don’t we, Cas? We’ve been dancing around the idea for months now, me always finding a reason to push it away. Truth is, I’m done of being afraid, done of pushin’ you away because I’m afraid of hurtin' ya. You can take care of yourself,” he declares. “Aren’t you ready?”  
  
Cas sighs and takes a seat on the bed. “Dean…I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’ve got a headache, you’re a little bit tipsy. What happens when we wake up in the morning and all your old inhibitions are there? How can I be positive that you won’t push me away?”  
  
Dean leans closer into Cas’s space and lays a hand on his cheek. “Because I need you,” he whispers, his eyes fluttering shut as the words leave his mouth. He wishes he could find the courage in himself to voice the true meaning behind those words, the hidden _I love you_ in that phrase, but can’t get himself to say it even though his heart is exploding with the feeling.  
  
“You need me?” he breathes out, his fingers tilting Dean’s chin up.  
  
He opens his eyes and automatically finds himself awing at the blue depths before him.  
  
“Yes Cas, I need you. I’ve always needed you.”  
  
Cas leans forward then, closing the space between them. Fire rushes through his body when Cas’s lips push up against his own, the undiluted desire blazing to life. Hands are everywhere, pushing and pulling at hair, skin, clothes, all in an effort to be close, close, closer. Cas grabs Dean’s hand and leads him over to the door, slamming it shut with his foot. The next thing Dean knows he’s being held against the surface, Cas’s hot breath breathing down his neck as Cas leaves fiery kisses on his skin, a carefully placed knee suddenly appearing between his thighs. Dean can’t help himself, he moans out a breath of pleasure as Cas unbuttons his shirt agonizingly slow, revealing bronzed skin and a toned body. Dean quickly is pulled out of the moment when he evaluates his own, one that is not as built as Cas’s, but is immediately pushed back in when Cas quickly wrestles the shirt off Dean’s being, revealing the freckled skin underneath.  
  
Hot breath is now on his stomach as Cas falls to the ground, lips biting and sucking on his hips. Dean is practically falling to pieces by now, and when Cas reaches up and undoes the belt buckle around his waist, that’s when it all falls apart. The two of them drop everything and meld into one being, kisses and moans and pure pleasure passing between them. Somewhere between the door and the loss of clothes they end up on the bed, the crackling of foil being unwrapped the only thing breaking Dean’s concentration on what he’s about to do. This is happening, this is real. Him and Cas are going to go from almost lovers to lovers, are going to become one.  
  
The two end up entangled in the sheets in a matter of minutes, words flying in the air with clarity. Hands are exploring, breaths are combining, they are together in every way possible. And when it’s all over and they’re both curled up against one another on the bed, sated and breathless, they fall into an easy sleep together, Cas’s arms wrapped around his body protectively.  
  
The last thing Dean remembers before his body falls into sleep is Cas’s breath whispering his name.

Dean wakes up to the sensation of fingers running along his back and hot breath on his neck. He knows he should be terrified; he looks around the room and has no recollection of how he got there, what even happened the night before. His body reeks of alcohol and his head is pounding like someone is drilling a hole into his skull, but he doesn’t feel sick. Instead he feels...whole? Almost as if whatever happened last night fixed something broken inside.  
  
“Morning, sunshine,” a too familiar voice rings out behind him.  
  
Dean turns and meets the sapphire blue gaze of Cas, and suddenly everything rushes back in seconds. The bar, the endless whiskey he drowned, the fight with Bartholomew, Cas saving his ass, Cas driving him to the vacation house, his drunken confession, Cas kissing him, Cas holding him, Cas exploring him, him screaming out Cas’s name, Cas Cas Cas Cas Cas everything Cas.  
  
“Do you know that your body is made of stardust, Dean?” Cas asks, staring at Dean’s back. “Some say that we came from a Creator, others say that we came from dust, but I believe we came from the stars. I can see it on your skin. Your freckles reveal the constellations in your blood; I can trace the Big Dipper on your back, see?” Cas smiles as his finger once again hovers over Dean’s skin, mapping out a complex pattern.  
  
He doesn’t know what to say, not really. When he was with Cas he didn’t feel like a guy with cancer; he didn’t focus on the fact that his body is slowly dying by the minute. He felt normal, like a healthy human with no disability. Cas made him forget, even if it was only for a night. But that doesn’t change the fact that Cas now has seen Dean at his most vulnerable, that he now knows what makes Dean tick on the inside, and because of that someone is now bound to get hurt. Because that’s what Dean is, right? He’s poison; he always has been.  
  
“Cas…” Dean whispers, but his words are cut off with a quick kiss.  
  
“Dean, don’t ruin this please. I know what you’re going to say and I don’t want to hear it.”  
  
He turns away from Cas but he automatically flips with him, pulling their bodies together in an embrace. Lips appear on his back and the hot desire from last night sparks a bit in his belly, but he can’t allow himself to give in, not again.  
  
“We can’t do this, Cas,” Dean voices as Cas's hands appear on his thighs, nails biting into the skin there.  
  
His hands automatically withdraw and he flips around to look Dean in the eye, the birdlike confusion there already breaking Dean’s heart for what he’s going to do next, what he has to do to keep them all whole.  
  
“Dean…you said last night that you wouldn’t do this. I can take care of myself; you don’t need to be afraid of breaking me. I’d be more broken if you pushed me away now, after everything we’ve been through. Please, don’t.”  
  
He hides his face from Cas’s probing gaze and tries to figure out the words to say. How does he explain this? How does he get Cas to see that he’s no good for him, that he’s a dying man who has nothing to give? It’s making his gut twist, it’s making him sweat, it’s making him… _oh no_.  
  
“…Dean?” Cas asks with alarm as he jumps up from the bed quicker than he thought possible and runs into the bathroom, making it just in time to retch into the basin, last night’s alcohol and blood mixing together in the water. It’s the worst Dean has ever been since the diagnosis, the sweat on his forehead sticky and hot, his body trembling with the effort from kneeling on the tile.  
  
“I’m calling 911!” Cas yells when he witnesses Dean’s position, but he pulls himself together quickly.  
  
“No, don’t do that! I’ll be fine; it’ll pass,” Dean says between coughs, trying to ignore the iron taste of blood in his mouth.  
  
“Dean…” Cas whispers lowly, “what is wrong with you?”  
  
He finds the energy long enough to pull himself against the wooden vanity, hoping the sickness can stay down until he tells Cas the news he received right before they left for Chicago. Cas joins him on the floor, keeping a distance between them that makes Dean uncomfortable considering the position they were in only minutes before.  
  
“I’m going to die,” Dean says in a breath, the words leaving his body like a declaration.  
  
Cas tilts his head and looks at Dean. “No, you’re not. You always say that-“  
  
“But this time is different. This time I’ve got doctors tellin’ me too. I’m a goner, Cas. They said I’m on borrowed time and that I should prepare for the worst. My only chance is findin’ a compatible bone marrow donor, and they said the chances are slim. Sam came out negative, my dad isn’t around, and no one in the state has the type I need. Chances are I’m gonna die and I don’t want you around to witness that, okay? We can’t do this, Cas! We can’t be together anymore when I’m a ticking time bomb that’s going to explode on you any day. I won’t put you through that-“  
  
“-And you think if you push me away that I will forget about you? That I will not check up on you any chance I get? Dean, you can’t just tell me to go after all we’ve been though. I told you that I would be there to the end, and I’m not taking that back.”  
  
Dean can’t look into Cas’s eyes, can’t take the optimism that gleams in that gaze. It will cause him to fall apart, and right now he has to be determined, he has to push back with everything he’s got. If anything is clear after last night, Dean let this go too far. He doesn’t deserve Cas, and Cas deserves a person who can live his life until an old age, something Dean will never get. He deserves a family and a cat, he deserves an easy life, not one that will be filled with doctor’s visits and endless hospital bills that will never get paid. He needs more than what Dean can offer, and that’s why he has to let him go, even though it will sting forever and Dean will never love another.  
  
“Cas…I don’t want you to be here,” Dean lies through his teeth, the words burning on his tongue.  
  
The look Cas throws at him is filled with absolute heartbreak, his eyes like a hurricane. “…What?”  
  
“You heard me,” Dean says again, grinding his nails into his palms. “I don’t want you around, Cas. I never loved you.”  
  
“Dean Winchester…you’re a bastard,” Cas whispers through clenched teeth, “and I don’t believe your words. Last night you promised that you needed me, and I think that’s the truth. You’re afraid and that’s fine, but we can fix this!”  
  
“…There’s nothing to fix,” Dean replies, his feet digging into the tile. “There’s nothing between us-“  
  
“STOP IT,” Cas roars, a fire igniting in his being. “You’re being ridiculous!”  
  
“Am I, Cas? Am I? Because I can’t, I won’t see a future here! Now please, leave!”  
  
He comes to stand before him, his clothes still abandoned on the floor at his feet. With a grimace on his face he leans down and slowly starts dressing in tense silence, Dean avoiding the gaze.  
  
Once he's fully clothed, Cas crosses his hands over his chest and whispers “Dean, I’ll go if that’s what you really want, but then say it to my face. Look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t want me anymore, and then I’ll be out of your life. Just say it…”  
  
He can’t. His fingers curl, trying to find purchase on the wood, anything to take his mind off what he’s going to voice, the ultimate lie he’s about to tell. With a push he gets up from the floor and ignores the dizziness in his head, a hand running over his face to brace him for the words. Dean turns to Cas and looks at the broken man before him. “Cas, I don’t want you here.”  
  
Cas doesn’t even utter a word; he just runs away quickly and slams the door, leaving Dean alone in a house that isn’t even his own.  
  
He walks over to the bed and collapses into the tangled sheets, letting the past week fall around him. He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t yell, he doesn’t punch a wall even though he wants to. All Dean does is fall into the plush comforter and lays his head on a pillow, staring at everything and nothing.  
  
Its hours later when the door downstairs opens and Jess calls up, her figure appearing shortly afterwards. She takes in Dean’s still unclothed form curled up in the bed and immediately works at cleaning him up, the dried on sick from earlier still on his body. He doesn’t talk and neither does she as they work to get him back to normal, and when he’s clothed and spotless only then does Jess ask the inevitable.  
  
“Cas told me to come find you. What the hell happened?”  
  
And then Dean doesn’t care anymore, it all comes out in a rush, words flowing faster than he can comprehend. Jess nods along and halfway through she pulls Dean into her side, letting him rest his head against her chest. When it’s over and Dean is a mess in her arms, she only replies with one phrase.  
  
“Dean Winchester, you’re an idiot.”  
  
He jumps up and looks at her, a little bit offended if he’s being honest. “I’m an idiot? I’m lookin’ out for him, Jess!”  
  
“Really Dean? Are you looking out for Castiel, or are you looking out for yourself?”  
  
The words are like a slap to the face and he automatically recoils. “What…what are you talkin’ about? I want Cas here more than anybody, but that isn’t fair to him! He needs to live his life, Jess-“  
  
“And you think you’re the one who gets to decide what’s best for him? What gives you the idea that you can choose what is good for Castiel? He’s a grown man, Dean. He can figure out what he wants and clearly that is you. Why are you rejecting the man you love- and don’t argue with me, Dean Winchester, it’s obvious you love him- right when you need him most? Why are you telling him to leave when you need all the love you can get?”  
  
“Because I'm gonna die, Jess! Has Sam told ya that yet? I’ve got an expiration date and I don’t need Cas around to watch me deteriorate into nothin’. I…I can’t…I-“  
  
The pain that explodes on his face takes him back, his eyes twirling until they land on Jess’s upraised hand.  
  
“Did…did you just slap me?!” Dean asks incredulously, a hand coming up to rub the redness on his cheek.  
  
Jess blushes. “You are being delusional and I was hoping to get some common sense back! Dean, you need Cas more than anyone right now. If you’re dying like you say, then you need a support system outside of Sam and I. You and Cas…you’re relationship is nothing like I’ve seen before. There is something profound between you two, and you’re not going to just throw that away! I won’t let you!”  
  
“And now who's the one trying to decide what’s best for another person?” Dean shoots back, and Jess automatically falls into herself, hiding her face.  
  
“I…uh…ugh! You’re so frustrating sometimes, Dean! Now I know why Sam complains about you so much,” she yells, pushing up from the bed to pace the room instead. “You’re stubborn and self-righteous! It’s no wonder you and Cas get along so well,” she grunts harshly.  
  
Dean follows her lead and gets up as well, standing behind her frantic form. “Wait…Sam complains about me? About what?!” Dean asks.  
  
“Oh lots of things, like how you’re always down in the dumps and how you leave your clothes everywhere and how you-wait! You’re trying to change the subject! Now listen up, Winchester, because I’ll only say this once, but by not letting Castiel be a part of this you’re being incredibly selfish, and you are pushing away the one of the few good things in your life. Just…think about that before you lose him forever, okay?”  
  
She throws him one pitiful look before turning away in a hurricane of blonde curls, walking out the door to leave him alone in a room with only his thoughts and the little essence of Cas that is left behind.  



	13. Lay Me Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is totally unrealistic. Yes, I know this is not how it works in real life. Yes, I am asking you to get into the fiction bus and take a little ride for this tiny part, okay? Thanks, everyone :)

The next day Cas finds himself at a local hospital, registering to become a bone marrow donor.   
  
A week later Cas finds himself getting tested, explaining that even though his marrow can go to anyone who needs it, there is one specific person he has in mind.   
  
A month later Cas gets the call that changes everything.   
  
His marrow was tested against Dean’s.   
  
It is a perfect match.   
  



	14. Anything Could Happen

Funny how fast a person can fall apart in the course of a month.  
  
Funny how it’s not funny at all.

* * *

Dean’s health tumbles down a steep decline, his body deteriorating by the day. He shouldn’t be surprised that death is coming fast, but when his doctor gives him the one month warning it still catches him offguard. One month? Is that all he has left in him before his fragile heart gives out and his soul ascends to whatever is after this life? When he gets the news his body shakes, and it’s not from the new medication they’ve got pumping into his veins.  
  
The first week after the news comes Dean finds himself incredibly tired, even more so than usual. He collapses into his bed and curls up in the covers, thinking that he’s just going to sleep for a few minutes to get the edge off. When he wakes up Sam has his fingers pressed up against his jugular, looking for a pulse.  
  
The next week things start to fall apart fast, Dean’s energy completely gone. Even standing is difficult, and under Jess and Sam’s nagging he ends up in a wheelchair, feeling death’s chilly breath tickling the back of his neck. The doctor’s argue that he should be in the hospital, but Dean insists that if he’s going to die then he wants to do it on his own terms, at home with family around. No one has the heart to argue.  
  
The third week brings endless sickness, Dean being tied to the bathroom floor. Food cannot be stomached and even breathing is becoming difficult, the heaving of his shoulders to catch a breath wearing him out. He has Sam call Victor, an old friend and amazing photographer, to step in and teach his class for him. He leaves out the part that it will probably become a permanent position.  
  
The fourth week brings Christmas, but clearly no one is in the holiday spirit. Jess and Sam go through the motions, Jess staying at their apartment to cook up a meal fit for kings. He likes to think that this is her last gift to him, a meal with all the trimmings, the thing he never got at Cas’s Thanksgiving…  
  
No, he won’t allow himself to think of Cas. For the past few weeks he’s been an expert in keeping Cas out of his thoughts, shoving any memory of his ex out of his head before he can focus on those blue eyes that keep popping into his vision. No, he won’t let himself remember the feeling of Cas’s skin sliding against his as they made glorious love, won’t think about the times they spent fooling around after photography class, the pictures Cas took of his face to practice, the times they held hands while walking through the streets, ignoring the raised eyebrows they got from some of the pedestrians. If he thinks about it too hard then he’ll fall into the black hole that has been consuming his mind since the breakup, and he won’t allow Cas to be right about Dean needing him.  
  
“Dean…are you okay to eat?” Jess asks sweetly as she starts setting the table, hesitating over his usual spot.  
  
“I want to try,” Dean gets out, but his voice is rough and scratchy, his throat like sandpaper. The new medication they’ve got Dean on is dehydrating, so he takes another swig of the water bottle Sam is constantly filling up for him.  
  
She smiles and puts his plate in place, ruffling his hair as she passes by him. He hunches down in his chair and glares at her back; he’s a dying man, not a little child.  
  
“Did someone say presents?” Sam bellows as he practically kicks open the front door, a bag full of overflowing boxes trailing behind him.  
  
“Sam…we said no presents!” Dean whines, gripping his chair a little tighter. “You know we don’t have the funds and the medical bills are pilin’ up-“  
  
“Dean, it’s Christmas, and if you want to be morbid about it it’s possibly your last. I wanted to go all out, okay? Please, just go along with it,” Sam pleads, already reaching into the bag to pull out a perfectly wrapped box.  
  
He glares at his brother but takes the package anyway, possibly with a little more force than necessary. The paper is not cheap; it’s silver and has gold trimmings, the bow taking up most of the space on the tiny box.  
  
“Sam, what the hell?” Dean asks as he looks at the wrapping. “How did you afford this?”  
  
“Look at the card, Dean,” Sam instructs, coming forward to point out a piece of paper stuck between the bow and the package. “This isn’t my present.”  
  
He pulls it out and flips open the expensive note, his entire body automatically stiffening when he reads the words on the page.  
  
_Dear Dean,_  
  
_You haven’t spoken to me in a month. I should be angry, even bitter about our less than appealing ending, but I can’t be. You are still the sun to me in every way possible, and I hope that one day we can get past this. For the meantime though, here is a little gift to you. I hope you’ll think of me when you use it._  
  
_Love,_  
  
_Your Ca_ s  
  
Dean stares at the piece of paper and carefully puts it to the side, opening the wrapping with extreme care. Underneath all of the expensive trimmings is a silver box to match the paper, another ribbon wrapped around the package. After wrestling it off, Dean opens the box to find a tiny key there, one he knows quite well.  
  
“No effin’ way,” Dean whispers to the air, pulling out the present for everyone to see. The others gasp as they take in the familiar object, one they both have viewed many times before.  
  
“He didn’t…” Jess trails off, her hand coming up to cover her open mouth.  
  
“He did!” Sam exclaims, running to the window like an excited child. “Look! It’s parked up front!”  
  
Dean wheels over and with the help of Sam gets lifted up onto the windowsill, enough for him to peer outside and see the Impala across the street, shining and brilliant with a huge golden bow on it. He can’t help himself; Dean gasps along with the others, the sheer shock value of the gift enough to leave him breathless.  
  
“I can’t believe he did that!” Jess says as she too leans over to take in the beauty, perfectly polished and bright in the street.  
  
He would agree with her, but in that second his eye catches a flash of a tan trench coat in his peripheral vision, a familiar dark haired figure walking away.  
  
“No, Jess, you’re wrong. I can believe it.”

* * *

The next few days fly by for Dean, and for a quick moment in time he thinks he’s getting better. His energy flares and he can walk, breathe, even keep down food. Sam brightens up at the change and even takes him out on the town, the two touring the streets like they used to. The brothers end up at a bar downtown and Dean drowns a bit of whiskey (even though his doctor forbade it, but what the hell? He’s not going to make it much longer anyway) while Sam keeps the beers flowing, the man totally drunk by the time they leave the place late in the night.  
  
Dean drives the Impala around town with Sam as a chaperone a few days later, even going onto the deserted country roads to run the newly fixed car into the ground. Sam is clutching on as Dean takes the joyride of his life, Led Zepplin blasting out the windows as he zooms away at a breakneck speed of ninety miles per hour. He counts it as a miracle from above that he didn’t end up with a speeding ticket afterwards.  
  
However, of course the crash happens. The next day is New Year’s Eve, the hype of the college town reverberating all around him. Dean hoped he would be up for going down to The Roadhouse, slinging back a few with Jo like he’s done in years past, but instead he finds himself curled up with a fever, Sam hovering over his body like he’s glass that’s about to break. He feels it again, that cold breath on the back of his neck that makes his body convulse with fear. His nails curl a little deeper into the bed as the iciness gets harsher, and suddenly it is all he can feel. He’s falling into it, he’s becoming it, he’s a piece of ice-  
  
“Dean…Dean!” Sam yells as he takes in his broken and shivering figure, his brother automatically reaching over to pull the sheets over Dean’s body. “What’s wrong? What do you need?”  
  
“…’S cold, S..ammy,” Dean gets out through clenched teeth, and he swears he sees a dark shadow move in the distance of the hall. “It’s coming…for me, Sammy. It’s coming!”  
  
“Dean? What is coming for you?” Sam asks worriedly while he picks up Dean’s phone from the side table, his fingers poised over 911. “What is coming?”  
  
He grins a little as he looks Sam in the eye and says “Death.”

It’s a Friday night when Dean starts vomiting blood, the copper taste on his tongue now too familiar for his liking. However unlike the other times the sickness does not stop after one retch. For an hour Dean lays on the cold tile of the bathroom floor as he coughs up his lunch and various other bodily fluids, some he doesn’t even have a name for. His phone is just out of reach and he’s home alone, Sam spending a well deserved night out with his lawyer friends Benny and Sarah. Of course Dean told him that it would be fine, that he would be okay without a caretaker for a few hours, and this is what happens? That’s just the luck of Winchesters, he guesses.  
  
As another convulsion rips through his body Dean tries to use the momentum to slide up the tile, anything to get him closer to the phone. However all it does is cause pain, little pinpricks hitting his entire body. He knows he has to fight through it, that Sam will find a corpse here if he doesn’t, so he pushes forward with everything he has, enough for his fingers to find purchase on that archaic phone of his.  
  
He doesn’t even think before he dials, just punching in the first number that comes to him.  
  
The voice picks up on the first ring.  
  
“…Dean?” Cas answers, his voice tinged with both worry and curiosity. “What are you-“  
  
“Hiya, Cas,” he gets out through his raw throat, a coughing fit interrupting his words. “…I need you…here. I think I’m dyin’.”  
  
Five minutes later and Cas is kicking down his door, running into the bathroom to find Dean laying in his own fluids, probably looking half dead already.  
  
“Oh Dean,” he murmurs lightly, getting down to hold his head up. Dean moans as the familiar hands of Cas run over his cheek; he tries to ignore how it makes him calmer, how it feels like coming home after a long time gone.  
  
“Hi, Cas,” he gets out, his eyelids fluttering shut. “I’m glad you’re here…”  
  
The last thing he remembers hearing before waking up to the sterile white of a hospital room is Cas’s low voice muttering “Yes, 911?”

Dean has always loathed hospitals, but he especially hates intensive care units.  
  
It’s been a week since the bathroom incident and Dean is still hooked up to every tube imaginable, a breathing mask over his mouth and an IV pumping both clear and yellow liquids into his veins. His energy is gone and the room has fuzzy edges, almost like he’s in a constant state of tipsiness.  
  
He’s not allowed visitors, at least not yet, so Dean gets good at eavesdropping. For reasons Dean does not understand nurses and doctors always stop outside his door to talk, little pieces of their lives floating through the door for Dean to hear. Usually its personal things; Ruby talks about how she’s dating this new man called Azazel (and really, who names their kid Azazel?) who gives the best kisses she’s ever experienced. Hester from the front desk gets stopped in front of his door one day and he finds out that she’s pregnant, but doesn’t know if the father is Raphael, the nurse, or Jeremiah, the pediatric surgeon. Birthdays, family feuds, life issues all arrive at his door, and Dean thinks to himself that he’s going to have a lot of people to haunt in the afterlife.  
  
However one day the eavesdropping comes back to bite him in the ass when Anna and Lisa stop outside, discussing his condition.  
  
“Anna! I need to talk to you,” Lisa yells from down the hall, and he quickly shuts his eyes when he sees Lisa peer into his hospital room.  
  
“Yes?” The familiar voice of the redhead rings out from outside his door, and he clamps his eyes shut even further. No way he is screwing up the once chance he may get to hear it like it is, without flowery words hiding the facts.  
  
“It’s about Dean,” Lisa whispers, footsteps the only indication that she’s moved closer. “I need to know how his radiation and chemo are coming along. Any signs of improvement?”  
  
He hears Anna’s trademark sigh come from outside the door. “I’m afraid not; his body is rejecting the chemo that we were giving him before. That’s why he was vomiting blood the other day. Radiation is not doing anything either. The doctor’s are almost positive a bone marrow transplant will be needed if he’s going to even get a fighting chance or else he’ll die, but as you probably know we haven’t found a match yet.”  
  
Lisa’s familiar, low breaths echo through the air and Dean concentrates on the noise, trying not to focus on the fact that his death is now imminent. He can fill in the blanks the women leave out; they haven’t found a match yet and they’re not going to. Dean’s bone marrow is rare and therefore hard to come by. Even if they found a willing donor and got the marrow extracted, he doubts it would be before his body gives out from sheer exhaustion.  
  
Just listening to their conversation is tiring, so he lets all of his troubles fly away out the door as he falls into an easy sleep.

* * *

He’s back in the black room again, that familiar film reel from before running with new images, new memories. This time he doesn’t question what’s happening; he knows without Chuck’s wise words that he has to choose once more if he’s going to fight or fade, and this time he’s leaning more towards the latter. What does he have to live for anymore? He pushed Cas away, and Sam is happy with Jess. The only thing he’d like to be alive for is for those two lovebirds to finally admit to their relationship because damn, how long can these two put up the rouse that they don’t care for one another outside of friendship?  
  
He watches the film reel go on for awhile, images of family camping outings with his father popping up with the school dances he went to with Rhonda Hurley. (Luckily it doesn’t reveal the part when they went back to her room and Dean tried on her satin pink panties, and then admitted to liking them.) The film blends together until Dean can’t tell which image is which anymore, the colors combining into an array of blotches on the screen. When the film turns off, Dean doesn’t even need to turn around to know who will be behind him.  
  
“Chuck…” Dean trails off, spinning to look at the man in pajamas. He has two cups of coffee in his hands and throws Dean a quiet grin.  
  
“Dean…” Chuck says back, holding out one of the cups to him. Dean takes it gingerly, bringing the liquid to his lips. It’s the best thing he’s tasted in ages, and it doesn’t make his gut turn when he drinks it. _Why is he considering fighting to go back again?_  
  
“I have a choice to make, don’t I?” he asks the man who isn’t really a man, not really. He has to remember that Chuck is a figment of his imagination, that he is basically having a conversation with his subconscious.  
  
“You always do, Winchester. Why is now any different?”  
  
“Because I don’t think I want to fight this time around; I think I just wanna die, Chuck. Is that wrong?”  
  
The man laughs lightly and throws Dean a bemused grin. “What do you think?”  
  
Dean glowers back at the man, crossing his arms over his chest. “I dunno, you’re the subconscious. Aren’t you the one who is supposed to be guidin’ me, like some inner Yoda or somethin’?  
  
“I’m trying, Dean. Why don’t you want to go back?”  
  
He ducks his head to avoid Chuck’s gaze. “…Because I wanna die like this. I want it to be peaceful, and when I get back there’ll only be more pain. There’s no bone marrow transfer for me up there-“  
  
But suddenly Dean’s thoughts are being blown apart by words. Excited, frantic voices ring in his head and he doesn’t know if any of it is real or just imaginary, but it’s enough to get his heart racing.  
  
_Can you believe it, Anna? A bone marrow donor who is a perfect match! What are the odds?_  
  
_Extremely slim, and we can’t get excited yet. Even though it is remarkably identical, we don’t know if his body is strong enough to withstand the procedure. He may die yet, Lisa. I want to hope as much as the next person, but we have to wait to see if he even comes out of this sleep first. He’s been out for days and they’re expecting the worst._  
  
_Oh can you be optimistic for once? I know Dean, and if he’s the man that I think he is he’ll fight and pull through this._

He reels back and then he’s in the room with Chuck again, the man looking on with appraising eyes.  
  
“A lot of people are counting on you to come back, Dean. Will you?”

* * *

The next thing Dean knows the buzzing of machines are whirling around him and Anna is at his side, immediately checking vitals and who knows what else. It’s exactly like last time, Lisa leaning against the foot of his bed asking if he remembers who she is, her hand reaching forward to grab his. The gesture is familiar, friendly, but not the same as last time. All of his old feelings for Lisa Braeden are gone now, replaced with a fiery love for a man with cerulean eyes.  
  
“Dean, I have good news for you!” Lisa beams, her face lighting up the dank room. “By some amazing twist of luck we found a bone marrow donor for you. If you’re consenting we’ll go through with the procedure tomorrow night. We need to get this done as soon as possible so you’ve been fast tracked. Are you up for it?”  
  
Up for it? Lisa is offering a second chance at life and she’s asking if he’s up for it? He nods his head furiously and can’t ignore the grin that must be spreading across his face, probably bright enough to light up the dim room.  
  
“I’ll get the forms ready then,” Lisa says as she gets up to walk out the door, but Dean stops her quickly.  
  
“Hey, Lisa! Wait!” he calls, but the sound is off put by the oxygen mask on his face.  
  
“Sorry! Hold on!” Lisa says as she comes over, releasing the rubber chain.  
  
He catches a breath of his own, hating the heaving sound of his lungs. “Hey Lisa, I’ve gotta question. Do you know who donated the marrow needed for my treatment? I mean, it has to be a recent donor, right? They checked those databases for months and never found anythin’.”  
  
Lisa runs a hand over his forehead and looks at him with pure motherly love in her eyes. “I do know, Dean, but I’m not allowed to tell you. There are rules about these things and one of them is to never reveal donor information to anyone. It’s a private record, and I’m sorry that I can’t reveal the name of the person who may be saving your life. I hope you find out on your own one day.”  
  
After that she puts the oxygen mask back on Dean and leaves in a rush, a little energy in her footsteps as she walks down the hallway.  
  
When no one is around, Dean laughs behind the mask. For the first time in a long time, his being fills with an unconfined flame of hope.


	15. Unbroken Promise

The day of Dean’s incident Cas finds himself following the ambulance to the hospital (he hopes Dean won’t mind that he borrowed the Impala to get there). He pulls up behind the vehicle and watches as they haul Dean from the truck, his unconscious, pale form looking broken on the gurney. He puts the car in park and mindlessly follows the paramedics inside, but gets stopped by the front desk when he tries to get into the emergency center.  
  
“Ah! No going in there for you!” a tiny Asian woman calls from the front. He briefly acknowledges that her name tag reads ‘Linda’ and that even though she’s very tiny, she could probably take him down if need be. “That’s for paramedics and patients only. Take a seat and wait it out if you’re looking for someone.”  
  
Cas stares at the doors, watching as Dean’s gurney goes around the corner through the windows.  
  
“But I love him…” he whispers brokenly. “He needs me and I love him.”  
  
A tiny hand lands on his arm and he jumps when he finds the receptionist next to him, her little smile full of understanding.  
  
“You’re not the first to come through here with a loved one behind those doors. If you truly care about that man, then you will let the doctors do whatever they can to help him. Now please, take a seat. I’ll grab you a water.”  
  
She turns away and walks into the back room, but Castiel does not wait around. Instead he finds himself pushing out those front doors into the chilly winter night, getting into the Impala and then driving away down the road, his auto-pilot kicking in before he even knows exactly what he’s looking for.  
  
The little white church looks exactly the same from the last time he was there almost fifteen years ago. Growing up with a religious family who traveled the globe meant constant church hopping, and this little Pentecostal congregation was his mother’s favorite in California. Even if they were hours away, their mother would always drag them here anytime they were in the area on his father’s business, forcing them to sit through the long services filled with ancient hymns. He always loathed going to church as a child, but this was the one place he didn’t outright despise. The people felt genuine and real, their worship not fake and wooden like the other places his mother brought them to. He never was and probably never will be as religious as his mother, but this little church was the one place where he felt accepted for who he was, despite the lack of belief in his world.  
  
He parks the Impala in the dirt parking lot and gets out, just staring at the place for a few moments. The night is clear and the stars are shining bright above the steeple, the light glowing around the building. The white paint is cracked and one of the stained glass windows has graffiti sprayed across it, but the church still feels familiar.  
  
Thankfully the doors are open when Cas taps on the wood, the hinges falling open easily. He steps inside and finds the place in pieces; the pews are turned over and it looks like a hurricane came through the building, the carpet water damaged along with the moldy ceiling tiles. Clearly no one has been here in years, but that doesn’t stop Cas from walking towards the front and kneeling on the dirty, wet ground, his hands coming up to cover his face.  
  
“I…uh…hi?” Cas whispers to the empty room. “I don’t know if anyone is up there, or if anyone is listening at all, but I need help. It’s…Dean Winchester. He’s dying, and I don’t think there is anything I can do to stop it. That’s where you come in…whoever you are. He’s getting my bone marrow in a couple of days, and if you give a damn then will you please make it work? Will you please let him live? Because Dean Winchester is the best man I know and he’s given everything. He’s never thought of himself before others, and I’m sure if you pull him through this he will be grateful to you. I already am because I believe you gave me Dean. I need him like he needs me, and I need him to live. So if anyone is up there, anyone at all, angels, ghosts, God himself, will you please just this once save a mere mortal? Even if he’s broken and bruised from the fight of life, he’s still the brightest star in my world. And aren’t we all bruised? Okay, now I’m rambling,” Cas says to the air. “But please, bring this man back. Bring him home to me. I need him. I….love him.”  
  
He ends the prayer and looks up, childishly expecting an angel to appear and give him good news, but instead he’s just left in this room alone and empty, doubting that he was heard at all.  
  
He sighs even though he expected nothing and gets up. Cas is walking towards the back doors when a little brush of wind hits the back of his neck. He turns, but there is no one there.  
  
A little grin lights up his lips. Maybe he was heard after all.

* * *

Cas’s procedure takes place the Tuesday after Dean is admitted to the hospital, Dean still in a coma from the week before. His heart races when he thinks about Dean laying in that bed, his eyes closed and his body still. The one time he was allowed to see Dean was brief. He was only being allowed into the room for a few minutes because Lisa snuck him in, but that was all Cas needed. He looked at Dean’s figure and he automatically started crying. He lay broken in that bed, his body sickly with the tubes poking out from every direction. He was barely breathing on his own and dammit, Cas couldn’t take it. He walked out of the room after only looking on for a few minutes, tears falling down his face.  
  
Cas is pulled back to the present when one of the machines next to him beeps loudly. The metal under his body is cold. Even though he’s laying on a well cushioned bed he can feel the freezing steel in his bones, or maybe that’s just the fear of the procedure getting to him. Even though they’ve told him a thousand times that it will be easy, that the anesthesia will knock him out enough that he won’t feel a thing, the fear still pounds away in his body, the aching desire to run apparent. It’s the image of Dean’s pale body being carted away that holds him in place, knowing that he’s saving the life of the man he loves by doing this.  
  
The door clicks open and footsteps ring out against the tile, a familiar redhead appearing above his face.  
  
“Are you ready, Castiel?” Anna Milton asks, a cart of different liquids behind her.  
  
He nods, looking Anna in the eye. “Will it hurt?” he asks, selfishly if he’s being honest. Why would a little bit of hurt matter if he’s saving a life?  
  
She laughs lowly. “No, Castiel. It won’t hurt at all. We’re going to put you under right now, and when you wake up it will all be over.”  
  
“Good. I don’t want to know what you’re taking,” he responds.  
  
Anna laughs again, injecting the needle into his IV bag. “You’re doing the right thing, Castiel. You’re very brave. Now, count back from one hundred.”  
  
He nods and leans back into the bed, watching the buzzing florescent light above his head.  
  
“One hundred, ninety nine, ninety eight, ninety seven, ninety six, ninety five, nine…ty…”  
  
The last thing he sees is the white light fizzling into black.


	16. You and Me Together

The prep team works anxiously around Dean as they ready him for the procedure, tubes snaking out of his body like he’s a machine. He can’t do anything but just stare at the ceiling, counting the tiles until the nurses move away and let Dean have breathing room again. It’s all disorienting; the white of the hospital room is overbearing and the buzzing of the florescent lights is going to make him punch a wall. That combined with Anna and Ruby hovering over his figure every five seconds, Dean is on edge.  
  
“Are you almost done?” he whines like a child, but Anna just hushes him from above.  
  
“Oh will you be quiet?” she says with a bite in her tone. “Do you want us to do this right or do you want to die on the table because a tube came loose?”  
  
He whistles lowly. “Wow, Anna. Didn’t they teach you about bedside hospitality in nursing school?”  
  
She sighs, hooking the last piece of equipment up to his body. A heart monitor starts beeping and it gives away the fear he was trying to hide. _Dammit._  
  
“I’m running on two hours of sleep and no coffee. Don’t mess with me, Winchester. Not today. Besides, your heart rate is a testament that you’re hiding behind your complaining; you’re terrified, aren’t you?”  
  
He forgets that he has a thousand tubes plugged into his veins and screeches out in pain when he tries to run a hand over his face. Anna of course just breathes out a low sigh and fixes the now pulled equipment, her hands flying over the tubes quickly.  
  
“We don’t have time for dilly-dallying today,” she says. “The surgeon is waiting for you and we’ve got to get a move on. I’m going to inject this anesthesia into your IV now. Count back from 100 and you’ll be asleep before you know it.”  
  
He lays back and closes his eyes, trying to count the numbers. One hundred, ninety nine, ninety eight…  
  
“Wait!” he calls right as Anna is about to inject the clear liquid into the tube. “What if it hurts?”  
  
She laughs and Dean can’t help but be a little annoyed. He’s about to go into a surgery that could save his life or end it, and Anna is laughing?  
  
“I’m sorry, but that’s just funny,” she grins. “That’s what your friend said when I put him under a few days ago.”  
  
His attention automatically rises. “Friend, what friend? Cas?”  
  
Anna’s face automatically pales when the words leave her mouth, and she quickly injects the anesthesia without another word.  
  
“Wait, Anna! You didn’t answer! What…wha…”

Everything goes dark.

When he wakes it feels like he got hit with a thousand pound brick, or ran over by a truck, or maybe he was thrown off a building when he was under. Anyway you spin it, Dean feels horrible, and the familiar whooshing of the hospital machinery does not allow him to imagine that he’s anywhere else but a solitary confinement room. He opens his eyes and sees the bottles upon bottles of disinfectant lined up on the washing basin, can visualize how the nurses must look when they walk in here, covered in layers upon layers of plastic. The tubes are running different fluids into his system and he can’t move, his body so attached to the equipment that even turning an inch could set off the precarious balance of the machinery.  
  
He sighs and lets his eyes wander the ceiling, knowing he’s stuck here for quite some time. He’s heard of bone marrow transplants even though this is only his first. They stick you in a room where the world and the germy nasties that live in it can’t get to you, and leave you there for a few days to get your body back to normal levels. He can already feel the effects of the treatment: a racing pulse, a throbbing headache, and light nausea run through his body, and he can only hope to whoever is above that this means his body is healing, getting better and not worse.  
  
With nothing else to do but stare at the whiteness around him, he closes his eyes and falls into another bout of restful blackness.

* * *

It takes a week for him to be released from confinement. When the nurses wheel his bed out into the hallway he almost cries when he hears voices, at least ones that don’t belong to the nurses or the one inside his head. However even though he’s free, they’re still cautious. His body went into a high fever a few days after the transplant and they worried that it was rejecting the marrow, but things have fallen back to normal since then. He has been feeling pretty good over these past few days, the nausea fading along with the tiredness. Of course it’s too early to call, but Lisa whispers to him one day that things are looking good.  
  
When he’s allowed to have visitors, he’s surprised by the first person who walks through the doors. Chuck Shurley wanders in with a card and a little teddy bear in hand, looking a little out of place with his plaid pajama pants and crinkled shirt. He wonders quickly when the man changed clothes last…  
  
“Dean!” the bright voice rings out as he takes in the tattered man.  
  
“Chuck? What’re doin’ here?” he asks roughly, his voice still a bit raw from days of silence.  
  
“Just thought I’d check in, see how you’re doing. That’s all.”  
  
Dean nods his head and looks away when Chuck analyzes him. He’s never noticed it before, but Chuck has ancient eyes, eyes that look like they’ve seen the birth of the universe. He knows it’s probably the medication talking and he in no way expects a response, but Dean can’t keep himself from asking.

“Hey, Chuck? When I was under…I saw you. You were in my head, actin’ like a…subconscious or somethin’ weird. That…that wasn’t you, right? It was all imagination?”  
  
The man stares back at him stoically before leaving the card and teddy bear on his bedside table, turning away from his figure. He expects Chuck to just leave him there, probably thinking he’s crazy, but instead the man turns around and throws Dean a knowing grin.  
  
“I’m glad you chose to stay, Dean.”  
  
When Dean blinks, the man is gone without a trace.

The next visitors come a few hours later, the two familiar faces knocking quietly before they enter.  
  
Sam and Jess peer inside and their faces gleam when they take in Dean, Sam practically knocking over his breakfast tray in an attempt to reach his brother. They share an awkward hug (awkward because Dean is still attached to a few different IVs and his body still isn’t completely healed from the treatment) while Jess watches on, her smile bright and open. He doesn’t know how empty he is without them until they show up with all four seasons of Game of Thrones in hand and a pack of gummy worms, Dean’s favorite. The three of them crowd around Sam’s laptop and watch as Joffrey gets poisoned, and they all cheer loud enough for Ruby to come running in, demanding that they keep it down.  
  
They end the night on a high note, Sam hooking up their old Nintendo 64 to play video games. Even though Dean can’t do much he can at least hold a controller, and he dominates both Sam and Jess in a round of Mario Kart. The three of them laugh and grin until Lisa slips into the room with papers in hand, silently watching as Dean wins yet another go on the Rainbow Road.  
  
“Ha! Beat that, bitches!” he yells as the others groan, Jess angrily throwing down her controller on the ground.  
  
“That’s it! I give up! You win!” Sam says sarcastically, the ultimate bitchface that he knows well lighting up his brother’s features.  
  
“Hell yeah I win! I always do!” he calls back, a light joy filling his being.  
  
Lisa comes forward and walks into their line of vision, waving the folder that’s in her hand. “May I interrupt?” she asks, her warm gaze falling on Dean.  
  
His grin falters but comes back easily when Lisa returns his gesture, the lightness from before filling him up again.  
  
“What’s up, Lisa? Is there any news?” Sam asks, coming to stand next to Dean’s side. He notices that his brother’s hand slides over his own and he takes it, glad for the support of Sammy’s grip.  
  
“Actually, there is,” the Braeden responds, opening the folder. “I’ve got test results from the transfusion we took from you a few days ago. The transplant is responding well to your system and we’ve seen a decrease in your cancer cells. Things are looking up for you, Dean. And I know I am not supposed to say this at all but…I think you’re going into remission.”  
  
The words echo around in his mind, and Sam’s hand tightens on his.  
  
“Are…are you positive?” Dean flubs, trying to comprehend what Lisa is implying.  
  
She blushes a little and turns her head away. “Of course not, but from what I’ve seen in past patients this is the common pattern in leukemia remission. If you are like the others, then they will hopefully be able to clear you after a few more tests.”  
  
He doesn’t know what to say, not really. His head is filled with possibilities that he never allowed before, thoughts of a future ahead of him. He can see it now; he’s driving in the Impala, the wind in his hair, Bon Jovi blasting out this time because let’s face it, Bon Jovi does rock on occasion. He’s coming back from teaching his photography course and he is already planning out lessons, different places he’s going to take his class around town. However, he notices quickly that he’s not alone. A familiar face is next to him and their hands are clasped together, the other man’s wedding band leaving an indent on his palm. He looks over and takes in those ocean blue eyes that are staring back at him, a little grin on his face. He never remembers feeling happier in his life.  
  
He breaks out of his trance to find Lisa beaming at him, Sam and Jess too. She takes in their overflowing elation and walks out of the room, only giving Dean a little wave as she leaves.  
  
“Oh my goodness, Dean!” Jess exclaims, her hands flying up to her face. “This is amazing! This is…”  
  
Jess is cut off suddenly by Sam sweeping in to grab her in an embrace, their faces closing the distance until they’re locked in a kiss, Jess’s hands automatically reaching up to card through his brother’s hair.  
  
Dean whistles. “How long have you two been keeping that in, huh? Finally!” he hoots when the two break apart with blush coloring their cheeks.  
  
“Oh, shut up!” Jess whispers excitedly, like the surprise of the kiss takes her offguard. “We’ve been together forever and you never caught on. That’s on you pal, not us!”  
  
Dean laughs. “Never caught on? Cas and I were making bets on when you two were going to announce your pregnancy! And you denied it anytime we asked!”  
  
Jess blushes brighter and Sam pulls her into his side, kissing the top of her blonde curls affectionately.  
  
The mood is interrupted by two words. “Hello, Dean.”  
  
The all freeze in place before turning towards the door. They find an awkward looking Cas leaning against the doorframe, the circles under his eyes making him look like a zombie. He isn’t dressed any better, a ratty pair of jeans hanging low on his hips combined with an old t-shirt that has coffee stains on it. A backpack is precariously slung over his shoulder and his face is pale, his fingers running around the rim of the coffee cup he holds nervously.  
  
“We’ll…just go then…” Sam says, Jess following his lead out the door. It leaves Dean and Cas alone, something that hasn’t happened since Cas found Dean practically falling apart on the bathroom ground.  
  
Cas clears his throat before he speaks, diverting his eyes away from Dean’s probing gaze.  
  
“So…any news?” Cas asks with his eyes focused on the tile.  
  
“Well, they think I’m in remission,” he replies.  
  
Cas looks up. “Remission? Really? That fast?”  
  
Dean blushes under Cas’s gaze. “Well Lisa is pretty positive, but they won’t know for sure until a little bit longer.”  
  
“I see…” Cas trails off, his eyes diverting around the room, his gaze landing on anything but Dean’s face. “So the transplant worked. Wonderful. I knew you’d fight through this.”  
  
He tries to ignore the monotone in Cas’s voice, tries to shut down the guilt that is rising up in his gut. He knows he hurt Cas, knows that he broke his heart, believes that Cas is here to wish him luck and to say that he never wants to see Dean again. But then Anna’s words slip back into his thoughts, the realization hitting him hard.  
  
“Hey, Cas?” Dean asks tenderly, almost timidly.  
  
Cas finally brings his gaze back to Dean’s, and he hates the pain he sees there, the cloaked anger beneath the raging ocean in his eyes. “Yes, Dean?”  
  
He pushes through and breathes out before asking the question. “Were…were you my donor?”  
  
Cas’s body automatically turns alert and his gaze goes wide. “How…how did you know? You were never supposed to find that out…” he trails off again, his voice fading into a confused whisper.  
  
“Well, Anna accidentally let it slip that a friend came in for a procedure and I connected the dots from there. Damn, Cas. Why? Why would you do that for me when I treated you like shit?”  
  
Cas walks over to Dean’s bedside and lays his coffee down on the table, his hands coming up to capture Dean’s grip. “Because sometimes love isn’t easy; sometimes it doesn’t make sense. This was one of those times.”  
  
“Cas…” he whispers, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Cas did this for him, he did all of it for him, even after he pushed him away and told him to never come back. Who does that? What kind of love reaches past that barrier and pushes through despite opposition?  
  
He visualizes Jess by his side, the words she spoke so tenderly he had to hope that they were true, even now.  
  
_There is something profound between you two._  
  
“Cas…” he begins again, words lost in the air above him. “I…I’m sorry. I was so damn stupid that I got rid of the one thing I needed most: you. Can…can you forgive me? Is there any way I can make this up to you?”

Cas grins and leans forward. He moves his grip from Dean's, his hand coming up to rub little circles into Dean’s temple. “You were stupid for the right reasons, and that is enough. I forgave you weeks ago.”  
  
He leans into Cas’s embrace and sinks into the absolute warmth he feels, his body curling towards Cas’s hand on his head. Everything is going to be alright after all. He has Cas, he has remission, he has Sam and Jess finally together. He has photography, he has a friend in Charlie, and he (possibly) has a guardian angel in Chuck. What else could a man want?  
  
Dean can't help it; he grins while silent tears start running down his face, the words that have been stuck in this body coming out easily. “I love you, Cas. I know I’ve never said it like that…”  
  
Cas leans down and wipes the tears from his face, then leaves a featherlight kiss on Dean’s lips. “I know.”  
  
He swats Cas away and groans. “I’m the one who is supposed to say the nerd lines, not you!” he whines like a child.  
  
Cas just laughs as he jumps away, reaching back into the pack on his shoulder. “If you want a real love confession, then I’ll just have to show you.”  
  
Dean pushes his eyebrows in and throws Cas a confused grin. “What? What’re talkin’ about?”  
  
He reaches down and pulls out a photo album, one that has a badly taken picture of them plastered on the front. “You remember the last assignment, right? For photography class? I thought long and hard about what or who I love most in this world, but in the end the answer was always right in front of me, wasn’t it?”  
  
He looks down and sees his entire relationship with Cas in the pages, pictures evolving from flat out blurry to almost halfway decent, even though the quality is hardly what Dean is focusing on right now. There are badly lit close ups of his eyes, combined with the photos they took together down at the Roadhouse. His face fills the pages, different states of disrepair caught in the photos. There is one that was taken the first day Dean took Cas out, his face light and carefree. The next page has one a little bit later on with Dean in the hospital chair, looking away into the sunset outside. Pictures of him at his best and worst grace the pages, some with a happy grin on his face while others depict a sullen Dean, his eyes diverted away from the camera all together. Of course he noticed that Cas was taking pictures of him in their spare time, but he never imagined he captured so much of Dean’s journey through cancer, caught both the highs and the lows of their relationship.  
  
Finally he comes to the last page. It’s blank, but there is a slot for a photo with the words ‘to be continued’ penned in blue ink, clearly written in Cas’s less than legible handwriting.  
  
“I’m the thing you love most?” Dean asks with wonder, because he’s never been anyone’s first choice; it’s hard to believe that someone would value him above the other things in their life. He thinks of what his family would choose. His father would choose the alcohol, his brother Jess, and his mother, well, she didn’t live long enough for him to know what she would have chosen, but it probably wouldn’t have been Dean. Out of all the things or people Cas could have chosen for this project, he chose Dean, and that is enough to make his soul soar.  
  
“Isn’t it obvious?" Cas says. "I try to show it as best as I can, but if it isn’t clear enough already…”  
  
The next thing Dean knows Cas’s lips are once again on his, leaving a fire burning in his gut. Not everything is perfect at that moment, Dean is still attached to a heart monitor that is going haywire and Lisa will probably come running in a frenzy, but it’s enough. Cas will always be enough.  
  
“Dean! What’s going-“ Lisa begins as she slides into the room, but stops when she catches Cas almost tangled up in Dean’s tubes. “Ah…I see. Is everything okay?”  
  
He breaks away from the kiss to looks up into Cas’s eyes and grins.  
  
“Yeah, Lisa. Everything is okay.”  
  
_Everything is okay, and it always will be._

* * *

Two months later Dean gets a call from the hospital.  
  
The cancer is gone.  
  
It never returns.  



	17. Believer

**Ten Years Later**

“UNCLE CAAAAAASSSS,” a familiar, shrill voice rings out from down the hall.  
  
“Just a minute, Ellen!” Cas calls as he hurries down the stairs, trying to reach his (almost) niece. It’s Sam and Jess’s anniversary, the two taking a much needed trip out of town for the weekend. Good for them, but that means Cas and Dean are on babysitting duty, trying to keep up with their three year old niece that just learned how to say ‘no’. He’s always been good with children, but Ellen is as feisty as Jess herself even though she looks like a clone copy of Sam. It’s adorable…until it’s not.  
  
“Don’t worry! I’ve got her!” Dean says as he skids past Cas on the stairs, his socked feet causing him to ungracefully stumble down the steps.  
  
“Yeah, you’ve got it all right,” Cas mutters sarcastically as he steps over his fiancé, smiling down at the glint of gold on his finger that catches the sunlight streaming from the windows.  
  
“Fine, I’ve don’t got this. But you better be prepared when she tackles you!” Dean calls as Cas runs down the hall, trying to locate the cry of the little girl.  
  
When he finds her, little Ellen Mary Winchester is curled up in a ball on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. Tears run down her face as she rocks back and forth, little heaving sobs coming from her throat.  
  
Cas leans down and rolls her over, trying to asses whatever trouble she got herself into this time. “What hurts, honey?” Cas asks, trying to look for scratches or bruises on her being. When he finds none he sighs a little in relief. If she got hurt on his watch he’s sure Jess would put a bullet in him.  
  
“’S doesn’t hurt,” she whines, looking up into his eyes with that bright hazel gaze. “I…I miss mommy and daddy!” she wails, the tears coming fast now, wetting the floor around her face.  
  
“Shh, they’ll be back tomorrow and I’m sure they’ll have lots to tell you about. But until they get back, how about I tell you a story the time, huh? I’m sure Uncle Dean is coming!” Cas calls while he leans his head down the hall.  
  
“I’m comin’, I’m comin’!” Dean replies back, walking in the room while nursing a new bruise on his arm. A hand comes up to run through his hair absentmindedly and Cas is still not used to it, still imagining Dean with the bald head from way back in college. It still baffles him that despite all the odds they made it here. Ten years have passed since that fateful day where Dean found out he was officially in remission, but it still feels like yesterday to Cas. There are times when he even forgets that Dean hasn’t been to a hospital in years, the last time being when Jess gave birth.  
  
“Uncle Bean!” Ellen cries out, getting up from her position on the floor. Cas laughs lowly at how she can’t say her ‘Ds’ properly yet.  
  
“Hiya, cutie!” Dean grins widely, catching the little Winchester in his arms. She fits so easily there that it’s easy for Cas to imagine Dean holding their own kids one day in that exact embrace, the little girl’s head resting perfectly on his chest.  
  
“Uncle Cas wanna read…a…” her little face crunches up in concentration when she tries to think of the word.  
  
“A story?” Cas finishes, tickling her tummy quickly. She bursts out in fits of laughter, all of her earlier tears forgotten.  
  
“Yeah! Story!” the little girl calls out, bouncing up and down in Dean’s embrace.  
  
Dean lets her go and she plops down on the floor, her hazel eyes looking up expectantly into Cas’s.  
  
“Okay, honey. How about the story of how I met your Uncle Dean?”  
  
“Yes please!” she beams, her head coming down to rest in her little palms.  
  
Cas looks up and catches Dean’s loving gaze. “Well, it all started with a favor…”        

 

 **Note: The chapter titles are now compiled into a playlist![You can listen to it here. Enjoy!](http://8tracks.com/padaleckhi/i-m-just-a-believer-songs-for-behind-the-lens)**                           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's done! This has been one long journey filled with days when I couldn't write a word to times when I wrote for hours on end, and now it's all completed. It's a little bittersweet to be done with this fanfiction because it brought me much joy to write while also being, let's face it, a pain in the ass at times. This is the longest fanfiction I've ever written and it has taught me tons about writing a story, and how to talk about a sensitive subject like cancer without botching up facts. I feel like going through the process of writing Behind the Lens has improved my skills as a writer, and at the end of the day I'm proud of what I put out in this work. 
> 
> However, this wouldn't have happened without you. Yes, you reading this right now. If you commented, pointed out an error, left a nice message in my inbox, or even just left a kudos for this tale, then you helped me through this. When I didn't want to write I looked at my AO3 page and just baffled at the fact that people are reading this, people are commenting and giving me nice reviews to boot. It helped on days when I felt like this fanfiction would never get completed, and helped me push through until the end. I owe you. 
> 
> Finally, I hope you enjoyed this work and will check out other things I write in the future. I think I'm going to write some one-shots for awhile before I tackle the next long fanfiction I'm planning (and I also have to write a 10,000 word thesis paper to, y'know, graduate college and all that). I can not thank you enough for reading, and you are all beautiful people. Thanks for everything, lovelies, and I hope to see you in the future.


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